My Spirit Longs With Thee
by jamiepage19
Summary: **COMPLETE**Christine has chosen to begin a new life with Raoul, but an unexpected tragedy sends her fleeing into the arms of her dark angel once again. Will Erik and Christine be able to overcome the challenges ahead of them? E/C Please read & review!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or the characters involved. That privilege belongs to Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay, and Andrew Lloyd Webber.**

**This story will be mostly Leroux and Kay based, with some references to the ALW musical. **

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****Prologue**

"You sent her away, Erik."

Nadir sighed as he ran a hand through his graying hair. He was seated in a plush wingback chair staring intently into the fire.

"Why must you revisit old feelings that will only bring hardship to everyone around you?"

Erik stood behind him in brooding silence, the light from the flickering flames dancing off his black mask. His arms were folded underneath his cloak. His hat had been cast carelessly on the table near the entryway.

The drapes of Nadir's small sitting room had been drawn to prevent any light from filtering in, as well as to ease Erik's mind lest some meandering passerby glance in. He had formulated a plan, and it would not do to be discovered so early in his game.

"For all intents and purposes, she seems to be very content with the Vicomte. Let her live her life in happiness and peace." Nadir said, turning to look pointedly at Erik.

Erik's menacing countenance dissipated as he walked over to the settee situated across from Nadir and sat down with a heavy sigh. His elbows resting on his knees, he put his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his jet black hair.

"You have not seen her cry, _Daroga_." Erik whispered softly, finally breaking his silence.

Nadir shifted uncomfortably in his seat at Erik's sudden show of weakness and emotion. A trickle of dread slid down his spine as he prepared himself for the answer to his next question.

"What do you mean, Erik?" Nadir asked, the trepidation evident in his voice.

Not wishing to further expose his vulnerability, Erik rose and straightened to his full, imposing height. "That boy is not worthy of her!"

His suspicions confirmed Nadir barely managed to keep his anger in check as he rose to meet Erik squarely in the eyes.

"_That boy? _My God Erik, have you been prowling around the Chagny estate?!" He threw his hands in the air as he paced back and forth. "What were you thinking?"

"I cannot let her go." He replied simply.

Exasperated, Nadir slumped back into his chair. "Isn't the chaos you caused once before enough? Hell Erik, you almost destroyed both of their lives, not to mention your own. She is better off with Raoul. He can provide a good life for her. They are young and in love. Why take that away from her?"

Eriks hands clenched into fists at his side as he spoke with malice. "_She is not better off with him!_ If they are so in love, than why does she cry herself to sleep?"

"Why did you come here?" Nadir demanded.

Erik remained stoic. He seemed reluctant to fill the void. Nadir narrowed his eyes and glanced back at him, his finger slicing the air as if he were scolding a small boy. "I want no part in whatever plan you are constructing!"

"Oh, but you play an integral part Nadir," Erik said with a sinister laugh.

Nadir blanched, uneasy as to what Erik was conjuring.

"I have taken out an obituary in the _Epogue_," Erik continued. "It merely states that 'Erik is dead'."

"Are you insane?"

"Quite the contrary _Daroga_," he chuckled. "I think of this as a rather ingenious way to get Christine to come to me of her own free will."

"And how is it that I fit into this ludicrous scenario?"

Erik's eyes lost their mischievous glint they held only moments before, as he met the Daroga with a sobering gaze.

"I will need you to deliver the news to Christine. She will need instructions on how to carry out my last wishes." Erik said solemnly.

"What about the boy? And how can you be certain this is what Christine wants, _if_ she ever speaks to you again upon realizing your deceit."

"When I let her go, I caught a look in her eye that made me doubt my decision." He replied slowly. "Only this time, there will be no second guesses."

"And Raoul?" Nadir prodded.

"_That damned boy is not my concern!"_ Erik spat. "Christine will make her choice."

Nadir closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He could hardly believe the next words that came from his mouth.

"Will a letter do?"

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**A/N: Alright! My first fan fic. I hope you have enjoyed it. I welcome constructive criticism. Please READ & REVIEW!! Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A:N/ I have received a great amount of response to my first chapter. Thank you to all who reviewed and set an alert for this story. This next one is for you....Enjoy!**

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**Chapter One – A letter**

Christine sat on the stool next to her vanity table, wincing as she removed her heels. Rubbing her swollen and hurting feet she wondered if she could ever get used to her new role in society.

It had been two months since she had been forced to make a decision between Raoul and Erik. She quickly found herself being whisked from various events and parties, presented to all of Paris as the fiancé of the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. Outwardly they had all the appearances of a perfect, happy young couple. Inside, Christine was torn.

Sighing deeply, Christine looked around the room. Raoul had seen to it that she remained comfortable. It was a tremendous faux pas to have Christine living with Raoul before they were married, but Raoul had been adamant about bringing her to the mansion. He was not about to give the Opera Ghost another chance to abduct her once again.

Her life had changed drastically once she arrived. She had been expected to become a lady of station. She was to accompany Raoul to social events and balls. She spent her days reading and sewing. Never again would she grace the stage to perform or sing, not only because Raoul would not permit talk of her returning to the Paris Opera for obvious reasons, but it was not acceptable for a noblewomen.

To give up music wrenched Christine's heart beyond repair. Her entire life had revolved around music. It not only brought back memories of her Angel of Music, but also of her father. She sang when she was happy, sad, confused and angry. Although she was permitted to sing in the privacy of the estate, Raoul made it clear that she was not to sing in his presence. He reasoned with her that hearing her voice raised in song only conjured memories of the ordeal they had both endured at the Opera House.

Erik...she thought. Deep down she could not ignore the feelings he aroused in her. Raoul represented to her everything that was light and safe. Erik brought darkness, mystery and fear.

Ah yes, fear. Christine could not deny he invoked terrible fear in her. His emotions were barely controlled at times, she was never sure just when his mood would shift from the loving, doting angel to the vengeful, ranting demon capable of harming anyone in his way without a second thought. It was fear that had made Christine run into the protective arms of her childhood sweetheart.

She had to admit to herself though, it wasn't only the fear of his temper, but of the smoldering passion she often saw in his eyes. A fire burned behind his air of indifference. She had not been ready to embrace that passion, or to acknowledge that she might reflect any of those emotions.

But Erik had sent her away...

Rising with a grimace as her sore feet touched the ground, she made her way to her wardrobe and selected a simple nightgown. After dancing and socializing all night long, she wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and sleep without haunting dreams of her poor unfortunate angel.

A spec of white caught her attention as she made her way to the bed. A letter sat nestled on the table against a vase of fresh roses. Smiling to herself she approached the table and reached for the letter. _What sweet nothings has Raoul sent me now? _

Upon closer inspection she noticed that it had a return address on the envelope. _That's odd, who would address a letter to me? _She thought. Frowning, she peeled back the flap and shook the contents out. Inside there was a small folded paper, and what looked like a newspaper clipping.

She turned the clipping over in her hand and felt the blood freeze in her veins. It was an obituary...

'Erik is dead.'

Christine's chest constricted as she plucked up the letter and read:

_Mademoiselle,_

_I am deeply and truly sorry for your loss, for I am certain you are grieving. Erik loved you very much, as I assume you well know. _

_It was at his last request that I write and tell you of a favor he made me promise to keep;_

_Please return to the Opera House at once to bury his body. _

_I regret this was a service he would not allow me to perform. Upon burial, please send me a wire to the return address and I will take care of the dispersal of his belongings, as well as sealing up the entrances to his underground home._

_Your friend,_

_Nadir Khan_

The letter fluttered to the floor as Christine shook uncontrollably.

"Erik!" She cried disbelievingly. "**NOOOOOOOO!**"

XXXXXXXXXX

Raoul was about to retire for the evening. He settled against his pillows and turned down the lamp. He let out a contented yawn just as a shriek emanated from Christine's room.

Instantly he leaped out of bed and rushed down the hallway. He opened the door to her room just in time to see her crumple to the floor.

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**A/N: This was a quick update because I already had this chapter written. I am feverishly working on getting the next one done. Shouldn't be too long before its posted. ttfn. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed. You have once again left me speechless.**

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**Chapter Two – Mourning**

"Christine!"

Raoul rushed over to where Christine lay in a huddle mass on the floor. He knelt down and gingerly gathered her into his arms. Gently brushing the hair that adhered itself to her face because of her tears, he spoke in soft tones.

"My darling!" he crooned. "Whatever is the matter?"

Christine clung to Raoul, burrowing her face in his chest as sobs wracked her small frame.

"He's dead," she cried, her shoulders shaking. "Oh, Raoul he's **GONE**!!"

Raoul continued to hold her for a few minutes before he asked, "Whose dead?"

Christine could only whimper as she gestured to the letter that had fallen to the ground next to her.

Raoul helped Christine to her feet and ushered her over to the bed. He lifted the covers back so she could slide beneath, and then pulled them under her chin. Only after he made sure she was comfortable did he walk back to retrieve the letter.

Placing a hand on the edge of the table, Raoul bent down slowly to gather the letter and the newspaper clipping in one hand and made his way to the chair that was placed next to the table. Glancing from one to the other, he let out a low whistle as he read the contents.

"Well I'll be damned." He whispered.

_Finally!_ He thought, inwardly congratulating himself. _Finally this is all over and we can go on with our lives with constant fear of shadows._

Raoul didn't feel a bit of shame for being glad his longtime rival was dead. He often felt that as long as the Opera Ghost was alive and well, Christine would never be free.

Even though inside his spirit was soaring at such good news, he could not help but feel slightly unsettled as to Christine's reaction. He tried to reason with himself that she had been through immense emotional trauma and that like him, she was glad everything had come to an end. But there was a part of him that was reluctant to admit that she still held on to some feelings for the man. Raoul had tried his best to ignore the sinister whisperings of his inner conscious.

_Christ, even in death he manages to steal her love!_

Christine's sniffling brought him out of his reverie. Angrily he clenched his fist and crumpled the papers in his hands.

_Calm down Raoul. _He told himself. _You are acting no better than that monster. _In a great effort to compose himself, he stood up and smoothed the wrinkles out of his bedclothes.

"Raoul… I-I must…" Christine stammered.

"Shh… Christine." He interrupted her. He was not in the mood to listen to her wail about a dead ghost.

_Damn it, I need to get out of here._ "We will talk more about this in the morning, Christine. For now get some rest."

With that he walked over to her bed and planted a small peck on her forehead. Even Christine could tell it was strained.

Turning on his heel he stormed out of the room. He was further incensed that she was still weeping. He did his best not to notice.

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Christine thrashed about, sweat beading on her forehead, making her hair wet. The covers on her bed wrapped around her legs as she continued to move about fitfully.

_You left me Christine... I died alone…_

Waking up with a start, she sat up in bed and leaned against the headboard. With a moan she ran a hand across her cheek and wiped the sweat off her brow.

All night long she had fended off nightmares about Erik. He was calling to her, pleading with her for help. But just as Christine would reach out for him, he would disappear. She drew in a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

_It was just a dream. But… but Erik! Oh he's really dead!_

Her tears threatened to start all over again. She put her head in her hands, wincing at the dull pain beginning to spread to her temples. She grimaced when she glanced at the clock and noted that it was already late morning.

The sun shone through the curtains, giving the room a pretty golden hue. It was late February and the storms they had been experiencing the last few days were letting up. Christine mused that if her heart wasn't so black with grief, she might have found it an enjoyable day.

Tempting as it was to stay in bed all day and mire in her sorrow, Christine knew that she had business to attend to. She untangled her legs from the sheets and made her way to her small bathroom.

Splashing cold water on her face, Christine winced as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face pale with blotchy pink patches. Dark purple shadows were just beginning to develop under her eyes from the lack of restful sleep. She sighed as she gathered her dark curly hair back in a ribbon.

Disgusted but indifferent, she returned to her bedroom and choose a simple green dress out of her wardrobe. She tried to steel herself for her upcoming task. She hadn't been to the Opera House since she left Erik. It would have been hard to return with him still alive, but the knowledge that he would not be there when she arrived caused her great pain.

_You must do this. It is what Erik wanted. I cannot deny him in death like I denied him in life. _

With new resolve she left her bedroom and walked down the stairs to the study where she knew Raoul would be. It was time to inform him of the task she had to accomplish.

XXXXXXX

Christine reached the bottom of the stairs and was about to enter the study when she heard voices coming from within. Not wanting to interrupt, she peered around the corner.

Raoul sat behind his big desk with his hands folded on the blotter. He did not appear to be happy.

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	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Alas, Erik doesn't make an appearance in this one either. But hang on my friends. He will be in the next one. Necessary plot setup...blah blah blah. Enjoy!!**

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**Chapter Three – Dissension **

Daniel Stewart sat in a chair opposite Raoul taking in the imagery of the posh study. A rather imposing mahogany desk filled most of the room. Behind it, large dormer windows with burgundy curtains took up the wall, letting in a good amount of sunlight. The remaining walls were filled with shelves of books. He smirked as he made the assumption that most were just for show, doubting the Vicomte ever took the time to read any of them.

"Let me get this straight Mister Stewart," Raoul said, rising to walk over to the sideboard. Uncorking the decanter of cognac he poured himself a glass. He normally didn't imbibe so early in the afternoon, but this man was infuriating.

_The English_ he thought disdainfully. He tried not to let the distaste show on his face as he sized the man up. Daniel wore a brown twill suit with dark brown shoes that appeared to have scuffs on the toes. He held a bowler hat on his lap. Raoul sneered as he thought the man would look better with the hat left on, since his chin length brown hair looked dirty and oily. Etiquette be damned.

"You want me to sell portions of my land to you without a reputable broker?"

_This man can hardly keep shoes on his feet, and he wants to buy my land? Laughable! _Raoul more than suspected that Daniel was a swindler. He would have to be careful.

"There 're a number of gypsum and limes'one deposi's on yer land Monsieur de Chagny," Daniel responded in heavily accented cockney slang. A movement behind him caught his attention and he glanced briefly over his shoulder just in time to see a young woman's head pop in and out of the door frame. "Wot I am proposin' is that ya sell me 'hese portions of land and in re'urn I will give ya a share of what is mined out 'a em. I am offerin' ya more than the estimated value of the proper'y."

Raoul returned to his seat and placed his hands on the desk. He had heard of a scam artist traveling through various countries offering an enormous sum of money to purchase land. The unsuspecting owner, thinking it was a deal of a lifetime, would sign the deed away with the promise that the money would be delivered by a courier the same day, as was stated in the contract. Once the contract was signed and the deed handed over, the man would leave the country with a perfectly legal, binding document, and the landowner never received his payment.

"What makes you think I even _want_ to sell my land, Mister Stewart?" Raoul's voiced hardened as he spoke.

Daniel glanced once again over his shoulder to where Christine had been standing. He turned back and smile licentiously to Raoul.

"I am a very persuasive gent, monsieur. I 'ave ways of gettin wot I want."

"Get out." Raoul said sternly, putting both hands on his desk as he leaned forward so that he was closer to Daniel's face.

"Get the hell out now, or I will expose you to the authorities as the criminal you truly are!"

Daniel rose slowly and nonchalantly placed his hat on his head. He then stepped forward so that he was within inches of Raoul.

Looking him straight in the eyes, he threatened "Mark m' words de Chagny…ya will live ta regre' dis momen'!"

Growling he turned and walked out, nearly knocking Christine over in the process. He gave her a lewd smile that exposed crooked yellow teeth before he tipped his hat and walked away.

Christine shuddered as she watched him leave and then turned to enter the study.

The moment Raoul noticed Christine his angry demeanor diminished.

"Yes Christine, what is it?" He said as he sat back down in the chair with a heavy sigh. "I trust you're feeling better?"

Silently she nodded.

"Good. Then what can I do for you?" he said tersely. "I have some rather unsavory business to attend to."

Mustering all her courage she began, "I will need to return to Paris at once."

Raoul remained mute, although a cold look crept into his features. Christine felt the need to fill the silence.

"I-I…It was requested that I return to the Opera House to bury Erik's body."

At the mention of Erik's name, Raoul flinched.

"Absolutely not."

"It will only be for a day or so. I would like to honor his last wish."

"Honor?" Raoul chuckled, all the warmth gone from his voice. "Do you think that man honored _our_ wishes when he took you underground? When he took you away from _me_? He can rot in hell for all I care, but you will not hasten that process by assisting in his burial."

Christine's eyes filled with tears, astonished at Raoul's harshness. In an effort not to let them fall she quickly swiped at her eyes.

"How could you Raoul?" she whispered.

At the sight of Christine's agony once again, something inside Raoul snapped.

"How could _you_ ask me such a thing, Christine?" he spat. "Frankly I'm convinced that you harbor more feelings for a dead man than you ever did for me! Well I'm glad he's dead. Now you can finally be _mine_!"

Her head reared up and a look of shock and anger replaced the anguish in her eyes.

"I am not some trophy to be fought over and won!" she yelled back at him indignantly. "Is that all I am too you… a _prize_?!"

"_I will not have that man beat me in death!_"

"_**He has a name! Say it!!**__"_ she screamed.

For a moment Raoul was completely stunned by her outburst. He had not known Christine had it in her to become so heated. She was not prone to tantrums. What might have been an admirable quality was quickly overshadowed by her passion for a subject he detested.

Raoul narrowed his eyes and spoke to her in a low, barely controlled tone. "If you go there, back to _him_, then your love for me was not a strong as I thought. Don't bother coming back."

Inside, a knife slashed through Christine's heart. But she refused to let Raoul see. Glancing up at him with pure venom she turned and walked out.

Only later, when she was seated inside the carriage on her way to the Opera House, was she able to cry.

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**A/N: There you go. I found a website that translated cockney slang. My apologies if it is not accurate. Please read & review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: A few quick things. I got some suggestions about the use of cockney slang, and I must say I'm in agreement with them. Not only is it hard to read, but its also a pain in the ass to write. So in the future lets all just pretend that Mr. Stewart has an accent ;-). **

**I spent a great deal of time agonizing how I was going to have this chapter play out. This was also the reason for the longer than usual delay in my updates. Ok now, my brain is fried. I do hope you enjoy it.**

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Chapter 4 – Deception

The sky had darkened and the snow started to fall again as Christine sat looking out the window of her carriage.

_Fitting_, she thought darkly.

The storm was in full force by the time she arrived at the opera. Pulling the hood of her cloak over her head she ducked out of the carriage and ran inside.

There were no productions in progress and Christine found that she was grateful for the absence of people. She fully intended to seek out Meg Giry after she had completed her business, but right now she much preferred to be left alone and not have to explain why she was there.

She ran quickly down the corridors to what once used to be her dressing room. Once inside she shut the door with an urgency that she could not place. Quietly she lit the gas lamps and gazed around the room.

Christine had been prepared for life to go on without her at the opera. And indeed it had. White sheets had been thrown over the vanity and the small bed to prevent them from being ruined. Boxes filled the room to one side, placed in there so they would be out of the way. The wardrobe stood lonely in the corner and the changing screen had been closed and lean up against the wall. There was a fine layer of dust covering everything.

What she had not expected was the impact the mirror would have on her. It loomed before her, ominously reminding her why she was here. All the times she sat on the floor before it, talking to _the_ _voice_ and later when Erik would come to her through it, came rushing back. She had many happy times in this room, from discovering her Angel of Music to seeing Raoul for the first time in years.

She walked up to the mirror and put both her hands on it just like she used to when Erik would teach her, before he had revealed himself.

"Oh Angel," she whispered.

Gathering her strength she took a deep breath and pressed the switch that would cause the mirror to swing open. _Be strong, Christine._ She willed herself. A blast of icy air hit her. She pulled the cloak tighter, grabbed a lantern, and stepped through the mirror.

The air in the tunnel was moist and thick. The oppressive silence made Christine's breath catch in her throat. She was still very much afraid of the dark. _I guess this is what they mean when they say the 'silence is deafening'_,Christine mused. She quickened her pace as she went further into the corridor. The odd feeling of being watched made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

_Ridiculous, _Christine chastised herself. _It's not as if _he's_ waiting for you. Your imagination is getting the better of you._

When she finally arrived at the house on the lake, she was wound tight with apprehension. Not only was she frightened by noises in the night, but she was unsure of how she was to complete Erik's last wish by herself. The thought crossed her mind, not for the first time, that this would be a most unpleasant task.

She entered the sitting room and gazed around. Everything seemed to be as she remembered it. The organ sat forlornly against one side of the wall. Blank manuscripts were perched on top of it. Wax from candles that had burned down dripped over the sides. There was a settee placed beside the cold, dark fireplace. Directly in front of the settee was a chair with an ottoman and a table to the right. On the table was a small lamp, which Christine hastened to light.

Knowing that she would systematically have to search each one of the rooms in his house she started for the room that instilled the most fear in her. _His_ room. During her stay with Erik she had only been in his room once. All it took was one look at the coffin with black tapestries and the stave of _Dies Irae _on the wall for her to never want to set foot in there again. But she convinced herself that this was the most logical place to start.

Twisting the handle she was relieved to find it unlocked. She peered in cautiously, as though expecting to be rebuked. Stepping through the doorway she swung the lantern so that it cast the small glow upon the contents of the room. To her utter amazement the casket was gone, replaced by a massive bed with large thick posts and a tall headboard. The coverlet was a rich maroon with gold trim. She gently took it between her fingers and caressed the fabric. Erik's tastes in such fine things did not surprise her.

The sound of something skittering across the floor startled Christine and she dropped the lantern with a yelp. The flame flickered and went out, plunging the room into complete darkness. She stifled a cry as she felt along the edge of the bed. Her only thought was to make it out of the room and back into the light.

When she could no longer feel the bed she bolted across the room toward the sliver of light that shone in the distant hallway. She was almost there when she ran full force into an object blocking her path. It was soft yet sturdy, and Christine was certain that it was not there before the lantern went out. Terror coursed through her veins as she screamed and turned to run in the opposite direction.

Two hands snaked out, one catching her around the waist, bringing her back against her assailant's chest, and the other clamping over her mouth. Tears escaped down her cheeks and she could feel warm breath tickling the back of her neck. She shut her eyes tight in an effort to escape what was happening. The breath came again, this time in her ear.

"Shh...I am here..." came a melodic voice.

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Erik held Christine tight against him. He could feel the muscles in her arms and back tense with alarm. Tears slid over the hand he had placed on her mouth and in between his fingers. He cursed mentally. This was not at all how he imagined revealing himself to her. He had had every intention of meeting her in the sitting room, ready to confess his deceit and beg her forgiveness. But when he heard her approach he fled to the shadows like a coward. When she lit the lamp on the table his eyes, which were accustomed to the perpetual darkness, took in the fact that she had been crying quite heavily. Her eyes were swollen and rimmed with red. _Could she be grieving?_ _Is it possible?_

More from curiosity now than from reluctance to face her, he decided to remain hidden and observe her emotions. He watched as she picked up her lantern once more and started in the direction of his bedroom. Intrigued, he quietly followed behind her. His gaze followed her movements until she came to a stop by his bed, taking a moment to finger his coverlet with quiet respect. He noticed that he was holding his breath.

He was about to exit the room and resume his hiding place when the tip of his boot came in contact with something hard and sent it spinning across the floor in Christine's direction. Cursing under his breath he knew that his position was given away when Christine let out a cry of fright and let go of her lantern. There was nothing else to do now but prevent her from leaving. Watching her inch her way down the bed he simply stepped in front of her as she made a dash for the door.

When he whispered in her ear, he felt her body relax slightly. Erik could not overlook the closeness of their bodies. He relished holding Christine in his arms, breathing in the intoxicating scent of lilac. He moved his head down until he could nuzzle her hair. The movement caused Christine to stiffen once more.

Slowly he removed his hand from her mouth and turned her around to face him, placing a hand on each of her shoulders.

"E-Erik?"

Drawing courage from the darkness that enveloped them, he stepped closer to her.

"Yes, _mon ange_" he replied, bringing his hand up to softly caress her cheek. He lightly brushed her lips with his thumb. He felt her breathing stop and start again in shuddering gasps. He was about to lean in and take possession of those lips when he was abruptly shoved away.

"You lied to me!"

Erik was momentarily stunned by her show of violence. Clenching his fists at his sides to maintain his control he thought _no one has ever dared to touch me in anger._ The wave of shock dissipated as his temper flared and he seized her wrist, dragging her out of the room.

When they reached the sitting room he pushed her roughly into the chair, and went to light the candles on the pipe organ. Walking over to the fireplace he lit the two candles on the mantle and then leaned on his elbow, glaring at the flames. _This is not going well at all_, he thought with a sigh.

Christine seemed undeterred by his anger. She stood up, her eyes flashing, betraying the confused state of her emotions. Anger, relief, and something else played across her features.

"Well?" she demanded.

Erik remained silent, still not looking at her. He didn't want to admit that things had gotten out of his control. If he had only faced her like he'd originally intended, he could have explained his motives, made her understand that he could not live without her, that he needed her. However, he was not about to show Christine a moment of vulnerability.

Turning slowly so the candlelight reflected orange on his mask, he returned her gaze as he spoke nonchalantly.

"You act surprised Christine," he said finally. "Really, you hold me to a higher standard than I deserve. Did you honestly expect anything different of me?"

Infuriated by his complete lack of remorse, Christine fired back at him.

"I expected you to be dead!"

"Is that what bothers you the most my dear? That I'm not? Or perhaps it is because this changes _everything_?" He could play this game too.

"Nothing has changed," Christine tried to assure him, but her voice wavered with uncertainty.

Erik could not stop the faint glimmer of hope from rising in his chest at her reply.

"Oh no?" he said slyly, purposely walking toward her.

Suddenly frightened by the desire she seen in Erik's eyes, she involuntarily backed away from him, coming to a stop when her back met the organ. Still he continued toward her. She put her hands out to steady herself, a discorded groan emanating from the keys as she leaned on them.

He stopped mere inches from her, reaching his hand out to brush the hair away from her eyes. Christine's eyes closed and he thought she leaned slightly toward him. He moved so close, their lips were almost touching.

"Tell me, Christine" he whispered. "Tell me that you have not missed me."

"I-I'm so confused," she stammered. She looked down, not willing to meet his gaze. "I sacrificed everything for you."

Remembering how he deceived her brought her anger out once more.

"And Raoul was right! It was all a lie!"

With a guttural cry Erik picked up the candle behind Christine and flung it across the room. It hit the far wall with a thud. He turned back to her and grabbed her roughly by the arms.

"Erik, stop! You're hurting me!"

He pulled her into him, crushing his lips down on hers. He released her just as suddenly, the organ once more groaning its displeasure. He staggered back a few steps before he cried out with rage.

"_**Goddamit Christine, go home before I do something we'll both regret!"**_

Christine did what any person would do in the face of such hostility – she ran.

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**A/N: I know, I know. Please don't hate me, I had to do it! It was all part of my master plan *laughs evilly while templing fingertips* Tune in next time folks to see what crazy schemes I have cooked up!! ~J **

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	6. Chapter 6

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**Chapter 5 – Upheaval **

Not once did Christine look behind her as she fled through the underground tunnels. She ran through the main foyer of the opera, not caring who seen or heard her, her wails echoing behind her.

Finally arriving outside, she crumpled over, grasping her side as she heaved with sobs. Her breath came out as puffs in the cold night air. It took her a few minutes to search the streets because of the blowing snow, but she finally spotted a carriage. She hailed the cab over and then hastily climbed inside. The driver could barely understand the directions she yelled as she slammed the door.

"To the Chagny Estate please."

The carriage lurched into motion, slow going as the snow had already dropped a sufficient amount on the ground. Now inside, away from any prying eyes, Christine gave way to hysterical crying.

"Why, Erik?" she moaned, pulling her knees up under her chin. He had frightened her so bad. How had she ever come to think he was a gentle man, capable of loving her? How could she ever have forgotten about his temper?

She put her face to her knees, tears soaking the fabric of her dress. Her emotions were in such disarray she didn't know whether she was crying from relief that Erik was alive, or from the hurt of his deception and his subsequent anger.

Christine recounted the many nights that she would cry herself to sleep, hoping that Erik would change his mind and come for her. She had tried to console herself by remembering that Raoul loved her. He would be the perfect husband. He was kind and nurturing, completely devoted to her. She had tried so hard to be content with the restrictions he had forced upon her, knowing that he thought they were for her own good. Even if it meant never singing again...

Try as she might, she knew she would never be satisfied with her life with Raoul. She wasn't meant for the world of wealth and high fashion. She could not ignore the glares and whispers from people who looked with disdain on Raoul's choice to marry someone below his class. Although she refused to admit it then, she knew that ultimately it was Erik she desired to be with. Only Erik inspired feelings of passion and longing in her. It wasn't just the dangerous emotions, but a sense of belonging that drew her to him.

When she learned that Erik was dead, it dashed any hope that he would come for her. Gone were the dreams filled with music and singing.

Now suddenly Erik was alive. He had been right when he stated that everything had changed. When he leaned in close to her, she thought her heart was going to stop. She had not wanted to meet his eyes because she knew that one glimpse into his golden orbs would be her undoing.

The carriage pulled up the rounded driveway of the Chagny mansion. For a moment Christine just sat staring out the window.

She was fooling herself if she thought that she could just continue on with her life the way it had been. She couldn't deny that she wanted to see Erik again. And what of Raoul? She still loved him, although it didn't compare with what she felt for Erik. She sighed, wondering how she ever came to be in love with two men. But then again, Raoul had given her an ultimatum. Would he even want her back? Did she want him too?

The driver of the cab cleared his throat and tapped lightly on the roof, jarring Christine from her thoughts. No doubt he wanted to be on his way and out of the cold. Guiltily she slipped out the door and turned to hand the driver the fare with a muttered thank you. The driver quickly pocketed the money, bundled up his scarf and clicked the horse into a slow gait. She stood and watched them lumber away for a moment before hurrying inside.

Christine slowly climbed the staircase leading to her room. She needed time to think and perhaps sleep before she made any decisions concerning what to do. It had been too exhausting of a day to come to any conclusions.

She reached the landing at the top of the stairs when she heard a crash come from the study. The servants had all retired for the evening to their own quarters off the main house. Thinking it may have come from Raoul throwing things in a fit of rage, she started back down to find out what was going on. _I wonder if my leaving truly upset him that much,_ she thought with remorse. She walked briskly to the study, but was brought up short by a strangely familiar item on the entryway table...a bowler hat.

XXXXXXXX

Daniel Stewart flung his hat on the table and stormed into the study, two men sauntering in behind him. He picked a book off the shelf as he walked in, and threw it over the Vicomte's shoulder. The sound of glass shattering into pieces jolted Raoul.

"What the- _What are you doing here??_"

"Ah, good evening to you as well, de Chagny," Daniel said coming to a stop in front of the desk where Raoul was seated.

Raoul glared at him momentarily before glancing at the two men that flanked him.

"I see you have noticed my associates," Daniel chuckled, nodding his head in their direction as he spoke. "Please allow me to introduce Ralph," he stepped back and swung his arm toward a tall, lanky man with short black hair that had been slicked back. Repeating the same gesture, he indicated the man on his left. He was of average build, with red-orange hair that was balding in the middle. He had a beard to match. "And this is Henry."

"I thought I told you to leave my property, Mr. Stewart. No amount of muscle is going to change my mind." Raoul stated, folding his arms on the desk.

Nonplussed, Daniel leaned forward . In a low voice dripping with menace he whispered, "I'm afraid negotiations are over de Chagny. I told you I have ways of getting what I want, and I aim to keep my word." Straightening back up to full height, he gave Raoul an evil smile before he flicked his head at Ralph.

"Kill him."

Ralph came around the desk, taking a pistol out of the holster hidden underneath his jacket. He put the barrel to Raoul's forehead and was about to pull the trigger when a scream broke the silence.

Daniel whipped his head around to see Christine standing in the doorway, a look of terror on her pale face. He held a hand up to Ralph, indicating that he should wait.

"Hold up there." He said as a lustful smile crossed his face. "I have a better idea. Henry, grab her."

Henry wasted no time, lunging across the room and grabbing Christine by the arm. She made a feeble attempt to fight him off, but he was too powerful as he dragged her back into the study. Pinning her arms behind her with one hand, he threaded the other one across her throat.

"Well, ain't you a pretty thing," Daniel purred, approaching her with deliberate steps. Christine shrunk against the man that held her.

"W-what do you want with Raoul?" she stuttered, tears rolling down her cheeks .

Instead of replying, Daniel unsheathed a knife, its blade flashing in the soft light of the gas lamps. Christine felt his hot breath on her face as he idly traced the knife along her chest.

Half turning his head in the direction of Raoul, he taunted "I think before you splatter his brains all over the floor, he should very much like to see me posses the woman he loves." He brought the knife up to her face and cut a gash on the side of her left cheek. Christine cried out in surprise and pain.

"You sadistic bastard!" Raoul shouted, rising up out of his chair. "Let her go!" He felt the cold steel of the barrel pressed harder against his temple, forcing him to stop. He watched helplessly as Daniel took the knife and started to slit the laces on the front of Christine's dress.

"Please...please don't do this," she whimpered.

He ran his tongue over his teeth in a malicious grin, resting the knife at the base of her throat. He used his other hand to pull her roughly into him. His lips felt like fire, burning when he began kissing her neck and chest.

Desperate to stop the events that were unfolding, Raoul cast his eyes about his desk for anything useful. They settled on a paperweight. In a last ditch effort, he lunged forward. Grabbing it, he turned and with all his strength struck Ralph upside the head.

Ralph slumped to the ground with a groan, the movement causing the pistol to slide across the floor. Raoul leaped over the desk and ran to Daniel with a savage growl.

Daniel spun around, plunging the knife into the bottom of Raoul's chest. Pulling the hilt upward slightly, he grinned as Raoul's eyes narrowed and then widened in shock when he twisted the blade. He heard the faint sound of ribs cracking. Raoul's mouth opened in a low moan and he collapsed on Daniels shoulder. His eyes met with Christine's. He could hear her screaming, but it seemed so distant.

Breathing was becoming a struggle, and he started to cough. Tiny flecks of blood sprayed on Christine's face and chest. She met his gaze as his eyes became cloudy and dim.

"Chris-s-t-t-i-i-i-n-e-e..." he whispered, falling to the floor in a heap as Daniel pulled the knife out. Blood flowed like a fountain out of the gaping wound.

"**Raoul? Raoul!!" **Christine screamed.

She began to fight against Henry, twisting her body in different directions, trying to pull herself free. She brought her foot up forcefully between his legs. He howled in agony as he fell to his knees and rocked forward. Christine turned and grabbed the decanter of cognac on the table and hit Daniel on the back of his head. Knocking him off balance, she knew this was her opportunity to escape.

_RUN! RUN NOW!! DON'T STOP!_ A voice inside her head yelled.

Daniel groaned, rubbing the back of his head. He caught Christine out of the corner of his eye as she bolted for the door. He looked over at Henry, who was still clutching his groin.

"Stop her!" he shouted. "We can't have any witnesses!"

Henry took a deep breath as he reached for the pistol that had come to rest in the middle of the room. He staggered to his feet and not taking the time to aim, he pulled the trigger.

Christine didn't look back as she ran from the room. The sound of a report filled the room and was followed by a sudden pain in her left side. She dashed across the driveway towards the road.

She slowed her pace once she reached the tree line. A warm, sticky sensation brought her attention to her side. Not realizing she had been holding it, she withdrew her hand and was stunned to find it covered in blood.

The snow had turned into a blizzard, and she shuddered from the cold.

_Help. Help, I must find help._

She continued to hobble down the road, blood soaking her bodice and dripping through her fingers.

It seemed to Christine like she had walked for hours. She was shaking uncontrollably from the harsh temperature and she had a hard time remembering why she was out there in the first place. Every step was becoming an effort. Stumbling to the ground, she caught her self with her hands. Drops of blood speckled the snow below her.

_Something about help...I need to find...help... Just need...to ...rest...first..._

With that, Christine's arms gave way and she collapsed into the snow, everything around her going black.

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**A/N: Whew! I'm done. Hee hee hee...cliffhanger! Thanks to all of you who have read and reviewed. The reviews are what keeps me going, you are my muses. ~J**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **I took an archery seminar last week that took up most of my time, but it was oh so fun. This chapter is kind of short, but there is more on the way. Before we get down to it, there are a few people I would like to thank:

Every murder-mystery book I've read, hunter's education and my husband (he's a cop and a vetern) for providing me with details on exactly what happens when someone is stabbed and the details of shock. I strive very hard to keep my writing accurate and for me the research is half the fun.

Secondly I have to hold a glass out to Rebibug. She is a loyal reviewer and has been there since the beginning. I alway look forward to reading her comments.

Third and most importantly a thank you goes out to all of you who have been reading and following my story. I will say it again, you guys are what makes it all worth it.

Here it is!! ~J

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**Chapter 6 – Sentinel **

_What have I done?_

Erik sat slumped in the arm chair, staring idly into the hearth. He had built a small fire and watched as the flames hungrily consumed the logs. A glass of brandy sat untouched on the table next to him. He had berated himself to the point of exhaustion in the hours that passed after Christine had fled. He winced as he recalled the sound of her cries floating back to him.

Nothing had gone as planned. He should have presented himself to Christine from the beginning, instead of hiding like a weak coward. He should have never let things progress as far as they did.

But it felt so wonderful to hold her in his arms, to feel her body pressed against his. The warmth it held thrilled him and all he could think about was more. He had dared a caress to her cheek and she let him! She did not shy away! His heart had surged with happiness and hope…until she thrust him away.

His infernal temper had crushed the tender moment. Although he understood now why Christine was upset, her rejection of him a second time ignited the feelings of hurt and loneliness once more, and they were feelings that he was not prepared to deal with. Immediately he had retreated behind a wall of vengeance and anger. Christine, too wrapped up in her own fury, failed to notice the edge that he was teetering on. When she mentioned that damn boy, he snapped.

Erik got up and began pacing restlessly between the fireplace and the organ. He looked with regret to where the candle rested on the floor by the wall. He had come so close to putting his hands around Christine's neck. He knew he had to get Christine away from him fast.

Now she was gone, perhaps forever.

_Merde!_

He knew what he needed to do. Quickly downing the brandy for courage, he sighed as he gathered his cloak and gloves, and put on his hat. He would have to go after her.

XXXXXXXX

After wasting a few precious moments, he had Cesar saddled and was heading in the direction of the Chagny Estate. The snow was falling softly, lending to the night a quiet, heavy feeling. The glow from the street lights reflected an orange-yellow on the new fallen snow. Although the scene was peaceful, Erik could tell by the amount of fresh snow on the ground that a terrible storm had just passed. The clouds were low, threatening to unleash its fury once again. The snow was up to Cesar's knees in some places, and no fresh tracks were discernable on the roads. A wise traveler would be hunkered down, waiting out the blizzard. Only a man with questionable sanity would be out on a night such as this. The air was bitter, causing Erik's lungs to protest when he took too deep of a breath.

The cold had never really bothered Erik. It certainly didn't bother him now. The more people it kept off the streets and out of his way, the better. Nonetheless, he pulled his fedora lower as he rode. What was peaceful and serene at a slow gallop was like icicles stabbing him at full speed. He smiled at the irony that for once, he was grateful for the mask that covered almost all of his face.

The lights of the city started to fade in the distance, leaving the surroundings dark and deserted. The snow glowed white in contrast to trees that appeared black and foreboding against the cloudy sky. The Chagny Estate was only a few miles outside of Paris, but to reach it, one had to travel through a heavy forest.

As Erik turned the bend he could see the outline of the mansion peeking through the dense tree line. He urged Cesar through the thick banks of snow that had drifted onto the road from the wind. Just as he was about to coax Cesar into a run toward the house, something caught the corner of his eye. He pulled the horse to a stop, gazing down the road. Something dark was bundled off to one side. It didn't appear to be moving, but he didn't want to be attacked by some half-starved wild animal. He slid off Cesar's back and started cautiously in the direction of the object, his hand reaching automatically for the rope coiled under his cloak. As he got closer, he noticed a pool of red seeping into the snow around it.

_Blood…_

He halted his progress and gazed around for any signs that whatever attacked might still be close by. He didn't see any animal footprints leading back into the forest, so he took a few steps closer. It was then that he noticed a blood trail leading back towards the mansion. It was accompanied by tiny footsteps. He whipped his head back to the mass in the snow, concentrating harder on picking out detail. As he came closer he could see brown curly hair.

_Oh God no!_

Erik broke into a run, the details of Christine becoming clearer as he got closer. She was laying face down, the snow stained around her. He fell to his knees and pulled off his gloves.

"Christine...no!" he whispered as he gently turned her body over and gathered her in his arms. Her extremities were rapidly losing their warmth and her face had gone ashen. "Please...please tell me I'm not too late..." he cried as he felt for her pulse. It was faint and weak. The sense of relief he felt did not last long as he noticed a large gash on the side of her cheek. Blood was spattered all over her face and on her chest. Although the sight of the cut marring her face was heartbreaking, it could hardly account for the amount of blood he saw on the snow. He starting searching methodically for the source and when he found it he yelled out in agonizing grief.

"Mother of God! Oh Christine…what has he done to you?" he moaned as he stared at the gaping wound in her side. "What have I caused?"

He could feel a surge of anger rise from the very pit of his being. Nothing on this earth could stop him from killing the Vicomte with his bare hands. He would take the greatest pleasure in squeezing the life out of him.

But the time to plot the boy's death would come later. Right now he needed to get Christine warm and tend to her wounds. Taking his cloak off, he carefully wrapped it around her small frame. He picked her up, holding her close to him and walked over to where Cesar stood. Making sure not to jostle her too much, he mounted the horse and raced back to the opera house.

XXXXXXXX

It seemed like ages before the opera came into view. The journey had been long and rough and twice the horse had stumbled in the deep snow. Fortunately the frigid air combined with Christine lying in the snow had helped to stop much of the bleeding from her side. However, he knew that he would be able to do nothing further till he was at home and able to assess the severity of the situation. He sighed in relief that they were almost there.

Once inside he rushed her into his bedroom and placed her gingerly on his bed. The first thing that needed to be done was remove all of her wet clothing. Erik shuddered at the idea of having to disrobe Christine, but if he didn't act fast, she would perish. He would strive to keep her decency in the utmost regard.

He dashed into Christine's bedroom and removed a loose nightgown from her armoire. After he had sent her away he could not bring himself to dispose of her belongings. They served as a reminder of what had once been. He was grateful for them now. He scooped the bedding off her bed and carried the awkward bundle back to his own room.

Setting everything aside on a chair he walked back to Christine. Her visage was still pale, her hair wet and matted down on her forehead. The gash on her face could wait, Erik needed to first determine the cause of the bleeding in her abdomen. He started by removing her shoes and let them fall unceremoniously to the floor with a thud. He then moved back up to begin unlacing the front of her dress when he froze.

The laces had been cut.

Uncontrollable fury threatened to overcome Erik as he speculated the possibilities of what happened to Christine. He came to the conclusion that Christine had been confronted by the Vicomte when she arrived home, and the poor naïve girl unwittingly told him that truth about Erik's deception. Enraged that Christine had chosen to return to Erik in the first place, and knowing that his rival still vied for her affections must have put Raoul over the edge. Apparently he could not fathom that his fiancé still held some feelings for her former teacher and had sought to end the conflict once and for all.

_Little does he know that he has unleashed an unforgiving murder who will stop at nothing until his angel is avenged. Walk with care, Raoul de Chagny…I will be coming for you! _Erik sneered with contempt.

Turning his attention back to Christine, he finished removing her dress and corset, leaving only her undergarments. After seeing to her modesty by placing a sheet around her waist and another over her chest, he removed the undergarments as well. A blush settled over his cheeks when he thought of his proximity of Christine. He was grateful that she was not awake. He was uncomfortable enough already.

He walked into his bathing chamber and returned with a wash basin, a fresh pitcher of water, and a clean cloth. Pouring the water into the basin he submerged the cloth and set about cleaning the wounded area. It soon became evident that this was not a cut from a knife like the one on her cheek, but a gunshot wound.

Tears suddenly coursed down his cheeks as he thought of the terror and fear she must have gone through, running for her life, not having a chance to dress appropriately for the weather. Raoul must have gone mad with bloodlust.

He winced in sympathetic pain as he probed with his finger, looking for any shrapnel. He gently lifted her up and noticed an identical hole penetrating her back. He let out a slow breath. Although it was not an ideal situation, at least the bullet went straight through and there were no fragments remaining. He inserted a finger into the wound and gently felt around. Erik almost laughed with relief when he realized it had missed all the vital organs.

She would live.

He finished cleaning around the wounds and then wrapped part of the sheet he had torn into strips around her waist. It would have to do as a bandage until she was well enough for him to get adequate medical supplies. He tended to the cut on her cheek and wiped the spattered blood from her face and chest. The next few hours would be crucial to her recovery. Knowing that she was not out of danger yet, he painstakingly inched the nightgown over her head and pulled it down, taking care to avert his eyes. Next he diligently placed the remaining blankets from her own bed over her prone form, and tucked her in snugly. Settling beside her on the bed he timidly put his arms around her in an effort to trap in the warmth.

Within minutes, he was asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7 – Turbulence**

_Christine was running down a long corridor, panic fueling her steps as she fled from an unknown assailant. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she frantically dashed toward the door she knew would allow her to escape. But to her dismay the door dissolved and she was suddenly surrounded by a vast, dark forest. The trees seemed to reach the sky as they loomed above her, their twisted branches threatening to ensnare her. The ground beneath her melted into a tumultuous sea of white, the waves rolling angrily around her. She struggled, but the sea was freezing, numbing her entire body. She called for help as it closed around her, securing her within its depths…_

Christine's eyes snapped open. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she warily took in her surroundings. She was in a dark room illuminated by only a few candles. It occurred to her that she was in a bed, though she was not sure whose, or how she came to be there. Several blankets rested on top of her, making her unbearably hot. Her body ached when she tried to move too quickly. Shifting minutely she managed to peel back some of the covers. The cool air brought slight relief as it penetrated her damp clothing. She glanced down and to her surprise only a thin nightgown covered her. It clung scandalously to her curves, the moisture making the fabric all but sheer. Christine's heart stopped when she realized that she was not wearing any undergarments beneath the nightgown.

Filled with sudden dread she continued to remove the blankets, revealing even more of a shock. An arm lay possessively across her midsection. She stifled a whimper as she tried to slowly wiggle herself free. But a sharp searing pain from her left side brought her back down to the pillow with a cry. Instantly the arm was removed and a figure leapt off the bed. Her senses reeling, she followed the man with her gaze as he turned around to face her. She could not believe her eyes when they settled on the black mask.

"Erik?" she uttered incredulously.

Immediately he relaxed, his expression turning from alarm to guilt.

_Why did I fall asleep? WHY did I even indulge my fantasy and crawl beside her?? How are you going to explain that to her? FOOL!_

A look of confusion crept over Christine's features as Erik continued to chastise himself.

"Erik, what am I doing here?"

His golden eyes softened as he approached the bed, sitting gently by her side. He took her hands in one of his, and used the other to lightly brush the cut on her cheek. Christine winced and Erik hastily withdrew his hand.

He gripped her hands tightly-almost possessively in his, and looked sadly into her eyes.

"You are safe now. Don't worry, my love. I will see to it that he never has another chance to hurt you again." he said reassuringly.

Christine continued to look at him quizzically.

"Safe? From whom?"

Something hardened in Erik's eyes and he clenched his teeth as he glared at the gaping wound that had marred her delicate skin. She followed his stare, bringing her hand up to where they settled. Feeling something soft under her nightgown, followed by searing pain, she darted her gaze back to his.

A myriad of broken images flashed through her mind.

A knife. Raoul crumpling to the floor. His eyes, fading and cloudy. A hat. A gun shot. Snow.

Blood.

Christine's brows furrowed as her expression turned to one of horror. She yanked her hands out of Erik's grasp and clutched his sleeves in a tight grip. Her vision narrowed and her breathing became shallow as she clung to him for support. She looked at him, desperately searching for answers.

"Raoul?" her voice wavered with terror and disbelief. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and coursed her cheeks, one stinging the gash as it slid down.

Overcome with a need to ease her suffering, Erik wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She sank into his chest, her wails muffled by his shirt. He could feel her breasts heave from the force of her sobbing. They lightly brushed against him and he could feel his body start to respond with warmth. As inappropriate as it was, he relished in the feeling. They sat together in that manner for a moment before Christine buried her face in her palms.

"Oh Raoul," she moaned, "I'm so sorry!"

Instantly the warm feeling was gone from where it had settled in Erik's stomach. Intense anger replaced it and was evident in his voice as he gripped her by the shoulders and pulled her away from him. He held her at arms length, speaking in harsh tones.

"Why the hell are you sorry?!" he boomed. Furious, he got up to pace around the room, throwing his hands up in the air.

"What kind of a _fucking_ _bastard_ hurts a woman and then makes her think it's HER fault?! My God, Christine. I could imagine that he would be upset that you came to me, but to try and _kill_ you over it? That does it! He will pay and I won't rest until he's DEAD! Do you understand? You can't stop me!" he screamed.

He turned to look at her, his breath coming out in short rasps. He needed to maintain control. Christine had been through enough already, she did not need to witness his descent into madness. But when she only cried more fiercely, his hands clenched into fists at his sides in an effort to calm himself.

_What did you expect? Her to coming running into your arms, thanking you for saving her life? _Erik tormented himself. _Yes! That is exactly what I expected. But no, that godforsaken boy can threaten her with her very life and she will _still_ choose him over a monster like me!_

Overpowered by rage and forgetting the fragile state of Christine's mind, he stormed back over to the bed. The movement caused her to flinch, and she tried as hard as she could to distance herself from him. This only served to aggravate Erik more.

"Tell me, Christine," he demanded, wagging his head. "I want to know why you cry over him after all he's done to you? TELL ME!"

She looked up at with a mixture of terror and sadness in her eyes.

"B-because," she said in a voice that was barely audible. "He's already dead…They killed him." She paused, looking down at her hands. She tried to keep her composure, but her voice choked as she said "T-they tried to kill me."

The statement stopped Erik in his tracks. He felt like an ass. He sank down to the bed and placed both his hands on her face, gently lifting it up so she was looking at him. He searched her eyes, silently pleading with her to forgive his temper, while at the same time marveling at what she had gone through and survived. It was not very often in his life had he experienced a moment that left him speechless.

"Who, Angel? What happened?" he said in a loving voice.

Tears clouded her vision once more. Not wanting to risk his displeasure, but afraid she would shatter any moment, she hesitated and then threaded her arms around his waist settling herself against his chest. Erik's entire body tensed at her unexpected action. Slowly he allowed his arms to come to rest around her shoulder in a protective embrace.

"Two- no, three men," she began. "One I had seen before in Raoul's study. He left in a huff and I didn't think anything else of it. He must have been doing some sort of business with Raoul…wait! That's it. The morning I told him I was going to the opera house he told me that he had 'unsavory business to attend to'."

"Was Raoul cheating him out of any money?" Erik asked.

"Oh no, I don't think so. Raoul is…I mean was," she faltered, "a very upstanding business man. All of his clients swore by him. But this-this man did not have the appearance of his regular clientele. He was shifty, his clothing unkempt."

She thought for a moment, trying to recall more details.

"When I returned home from the opera house, I heard a crash from the study. I thought maybe Raoul was having a tantrum because I chose to come here and by doing so walked away from him."

"What do you mean 'walked away from him'?"

"He told me that if I chose to come here, to bury you, that I was making my choice for the future and he wanted no part of it with me." Christine explained.

"My final words to him were words of anger." She started to cry softly again.

Erik was stunned. Christine had forfeited her relationship with the Vicomte over a sense of duty she held for him? Would she have done the same if she had known from the beginning he was still alive? Ever so slowly, a glimmer of hope slipped its way into his heart. _Maybe…_ he thought. He tightened his grip around her, placing his face on her head, nestling his masked cheek in her hair.

"I never got to say goodbye. I never had the chance to tell him that I was sorry we quarreled."

Erik's new found hope shattered into a thousand pieces. His arms went slack around her. Sensing his retreat, Christine clung tighter to him.

_Foolish girl, she does not know how she toys with me. _

Gently easing himself from her grip, he helped her lay back against the pillow. The slight movement caused the blanket to fall away from her, exposing her thin nightgown. Erik's gaze traveled down to her breasts, where her nipples had hardened, raising through the fabric. He felt himself stiffen in response. Reluctantly he tore his eyes away and brought them up to meet her own with a look of barely concealed desire. She blushed, biting at the corner of her lip as she hastily covered herself. How he wanted to taste those lips again.

_She does not know her own mind._

"What happened next," he prompted, making a mighty effort to keep his beautiful voice from cracking. He stood up and walked over to the bureau, leaning on his elbow. It was better to keep a safer distance at the moment.

Christine stared at him blankly for a few moments. Realizing it, she blinked several times and continued "I-I walked in and one of the men was pointing a gun at Raoul's head. Another grabbed me and the man I seen earlier came over to me, taunting Raoul by saying he was going to do terrible things to me. Raoul managed to get away and came after me, but he was...he was..." she broke off.

Erik watched as Christine sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I managed to get away and I ran. I ran until I could run no more. And then, I was here. How did you find me Erik?"

"I did not want to lose you again," Erik said after a long pause. He thought grimly about how just that had almost happened.

"Come now," he said, changing the subject. "No more talk of these things tonight. You are exhausted and you need your rest in order to recover."

He started to tuck her back in, and then removed some of the outer blankets when she protested she was too hot. He was almost to the door when her small voice called out to him.

"Erik, will you stay with me? Just for tonight?" she asked weakly.

Slowly turning around, he grabbed one of the discarded blankets and settled himself into the chair beside the bed. He blew out the candle on the nightstand, surrounding them in darkness.

"Erik?"

He groaned. She reminded him of a petulant child who refused to go to sleep.

"Yes Christine?"

"Thank you for saving my life," came a sleepy reply.

Erik remained awake for most of the night, pondering that remark.

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**A/N**: *Yawn* Well its almost 1am and I when I pulled my head off the keyboard the letters "G" and "U" came with it. LOL guess its time for bed.

Happy 4th of July to all the locals! Have a great weekend everyone! ~J


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Many apologies for the delay in updating. I had a massive case of writer's block. Luckily I found inspiration a few days ago and have been chained to my computer ever since, trying to get it all out.

So to make up for it, I wrote an especially long chapter with a bit of fluff. Hope you like it. ~J

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**Chapter 8 – Transcend**

The following days crept along at a slow pace. Christine would sleep most of the day, exhausted from the nightmares that would keep her stirring restlessly at night. Erik remained ever vigilant by her side, available at a moments notice for when her soft features would contort into a grimace. It was inevitably followed by screams that tore at his heart.

Determined to maintain a constant state of alertness, he refused to sleep, only allowing himself to doze for minutes at a time. He had just drifted off when he was abruptly awakened by Christine's cries.

He scrambled to his feet quickly and rushed over to the bed. In the past, all it took to calm her down were a few soothing words and gentle caresses. He leaned over to place a hand on her arm, but he was caught off guard when Christine began flailing her arms about wildly. His musical voice had no affect on her as she continued to fight against him.

Erik attempted to restrain both of her hands, but to his utter shock she managed to wrench one of them from his grasp. He had no time to prevent her fist from connecting with his cheek. The force of the blow dislodged his mask and he cursed as it tumbled to the ground.

He released his grip on her other hand and bent down to retrieve it, while massaging the soft flesh of his swelling cheek. _Good Hell, woman _he thought in awe. _No wonder you were able to escape._

The throes of Christine's nightmare eventually subsided and soon she was sleeping peacefully, an almost tranquil look settling across her features. Erik shook his head and went to find a cold compress.

XXXXXXXX

The next morning found Erik in Christine's old room, seething in front of the only mirror in his house. Her assault on him had left the right side of his face swollen, a deep purple contusion darkening the apple of his cheek. He tenderly touched the skin around his black eye and frowned at the sight of the faint ring of yellow surrounding it.

_As if I'm not gruesome enough,_ he thought sullenly.

The compress had done nothing to reduce the swelling and the large goose egg that resulted made it impossible to put on his mask.

He heard Christine stirring from within his room and knew he could not delay forever. Eventually he would have to tend to her needs and she would see him in all his grotesque glory.

He drew a breath that was half sigh, half groan and went to prepare some tea.

XXXXXXXX

Christine blinked slowly and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She struggled to pull herself into a sitting position. The pang in her side was no longer a sharp stabbing pain, but a dull ache. She imagined it was healing steadily underneath the bandage.

She heard a noise in the hallway and looked up to see Erik enter the room with a tray of tea and a few slices of bread.

"Erik!" she exclaimed, bringing her hands to her mouth. "What happened?"

The corner of Erik's mouth pulled into a sneer as he looked down.

"Your handiwork, my dear," he replied curtly, setting the tray down on the table beside the bed. "I daresay it's not much of an improvement."

"Wha-?" Christine's eyes continued to flutter in dismay. The past few days had been a blur. She had constantly drifted in and out of nightmares. Horrible images flashed in her mind whenever she closed her eyes. Could it be that she had mistaken Erik for an attacker, and swung at him in defense?

Seeing her expression change from surprise to guilt, he picked up the cup and sat next to her on the bed. "Don't worry" he said softly. "It will heal in time. Until then, you will have to prepare yourself for seeing me without the mask. Here, drink this."

Christine took the cup from him with both hands and cautiously took a few sips. Looking over the rim, she tried to meet his eyes. He glanced away, busying himself with buttering a slice of bread. She could see a blush rise to his cheeks in embarrassment from her scrutiny.

"Your face no longer holds the horror for me that it once did. You know that. I can look upon you now and see behind your face, to who you really are." She said quietly.

She heard him scoff, and then he turned to look at her, his eyes portraying cold disbelief at her words.

"And who's that, my dear?" he demanded harshly.

Confused, but not willing to be deterred by his hostility, Christine raised her hand, intending to gently stroke his bruised cheek. Skillfully, he dodged her attempt and shoved the slice of bed into her hand instead. He slid off the bed and put a few paces between them.

Unnerved by her sudden show of affection, Erik could only stammer, "Th-this will have to do for now. I have not been able to go above to replenish my cupboards."

"I am not hungry, Erik."

"You must have something," he said sighing loudly. "You have not had anything to eat or drink in days. Your body needs strength if it is to recover from the trauma you have endured."

"Why won't you sit down and talk with me, Erik?" Christine said, her eyes pleading.

"I'm afraid I have other pressing matters to attend to right this moment." he replied, turning abruptly on his heel and marching out of the room.

"Erik!" she called after him.

A moment later she could hear the notes from his organ waft into the room.

XXXXXXXX

Daniel sat in a dim corner of the bar, hunched over his beer. Seated across from him Ralph was nursing the bump on his head, while Henry glanced about nervously.

"What are we doing here, boss?" Henry asked, the paranoia evident in his voice.

"Yeah." Ralph piped in. "Why haven't we left this godforsaken country yet?"

Daniel continued to stare at them, a satisfied grin forming across his slimy features as he pulled a folded newspaper out from the pocket inside his jacket. He laid it on the table deliberately and pushed it over to Henry.

Ralph continued to glare at Daniel with contempt as Henry unfolded the newspaper and read the headline:

**VICOMTE DE CHAGNY MURDERED, FIANCE MISSING!!**

"Son of a bitch!" Ralph swore slamming his hand on the table so hard, some of Daniel's beer spilled over the rim. "That's just great! Here is the evidence that we should be high-tailing it out of here, and yet there you sit with a stupid smirk on your face! Christ Almighty!"

"Ralph's right, boss." Henry said with all the fervor of a dim wit.

"Are we just gonna sit here until they put the pieces together and come after us?" Ralph continued to rant.

"Keep your goddamn voices down!" Daniel hissed. He yanked the paper from Henry's hands and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket. "No one is going to link us to the murder because no one _seen_ us. No one except for that broad who walked in on us."

"And she's missing." Henry quipped.

"No thanks to you!" Daniel shouted, pointing his finger accusingly at him.

"I shot her! I know I did!" Henry asserted defensively.

"_Quiet!" _Ralph cut in, effectively silencing the two just as a waitress wandered by. The three men tried to look unassuming and occupied as she inquired if they would like more to drink.

Daniel, as politely as he could, told her no, and then turned on Ralph and Henry as soon as she was out of ear shot.

"Its actions like _those_ that will ultimately bring suspicion to us!" he lectured. "Now listen. The whole reason we are still here is because she is missing. Not dead, missing. I did some snooping around and managed to uncover the fact that de Chagny was the last remaining member of his family. His elder brother died mysteriously at that hand of some Opera Ghost a few months back, and his two sisters already received their cut of the fortune when they got married."

"Yeah, and?" Ralph said skeptically.

"Think about it, who else is all that money and land going to go to?" Daniel prompted them.

"The fiancé!" Henry all but shouted. Immediately aware of his outburst, he sat back and pressed his lips together.

"Exactly." Daniel replied, sitting back with a smile once again.

Ralph however, was still unconvinced and refused to share in the excitement.

"I still don't understand your motivation in all this. What is your plan?"

"Because, shit for brains, no one knows where she is. So we track her down, kill her, and take m-… _our_ money."

"It's a good plan boss," said Henry.

"It has promise." Ralph agreed. "But otherwise it's full of holes."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" stormed Daniel balling his hand into a fist and slamming it down onto the table. More beer spilled over the rim. "I'm the brains and the boss of this outfit. You're just a hired hand!"

"Look," Ralph reasoned. "You want this whole scheme to work? Then you'd do better to listen to me right now. Want to track her down?…Fine. Kill the little bit…even better. But I doubt she is carrying the whole Chagny fortune around in her purse. What you need to do is blackmail her. Find some scandal that would cast doubt in everyone's eyes, including hers. Once you have what you want…get rid of her. But then again, what do I know? I'm just a hired hand."

"Oh. That's a good plan too, boss." Henry said sheepishly.

"Enough." Daniel said, after gulping the rest of his beer. He set the mug down harshly on the table. "Fine. We'll try it your way. But if I don't like it, we do things the way I see fit."

"So where do we start? How do we know where she is? If we start asking around, someone's bound to think we're up to something." Henry said, in a moment of insight that surprised Daniel.

Swelling with satisfaction that he was once again in control, Daniel leaned closer to the pair, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

"It just so happens that I went after her that night," he began. "And no sooner had she collapsed and I was gonna finish the job than some twit on a stallion rides up and takes off with her."

"And how many people own stallions in Paris?" Ralph challenged, rolling his eyes.

"How many of those men wear masks?" he countered. "I'm sure with a little investigative work on our part, we can find out just who this mysterious figure is."

And with that, Daniel ordered three more drinks and they toasted to their upcoming good fortune.

XXXXXXXX

Music welled up through the sitting room, harsh and clipped at first as Erik pounded on the ivory keys in frustration. Slowly his body relaxed, succumbing to the power of the music. He began a gentler, more melancholy strain that conjured all the confusion and pain he was feeling. He continued to play even though his fingers bled, in an effort to escape the swirling emotions around him. He did not want to think about how close he had come to taking Christine in his arms, to telling her he loved her, to confessing his desires. He wanted her so badly. He felt he was on the edge of a precipice, delicately balancing and it was all he could do to keep himself from falling over. He was reluctant to take such a leap again, for fear of the same rejection that she had once put him through. And Christine seemed to be oblivious to the fact that she held the string and kept upsetting the balance.

She had meant well. He acknowledged that she was only trying to show him kindness, humanity, and compassion. But Erik, being ever self conscious about his face, refused to see the meaning behind it and chose instead to focus on his vulnerability. It was easier to hide behind his music than to explore the many facets of her feelings. What he had not anticipated was Christine's tenacity.

Presently he became aware of movement behind him and he turned around on the bench to see Christine leaning against the back of the chair for support. Her eyes were glazed, a small smile on her lips.

"Christine," he whispered softly.

Her eyes came into focus as she snapped out of her reverie. Looking down at him she noticed that despite the pain he claimed it to cause, he had forced the mask back on. The smile that had been hovering on her lips faded as she wondered if he would ever come to trust her.

"Don't stop." She replied in the same whisper. "I love to hear you play, it's so beautiful. Will you play for me a while longer?"

"You must really get back into bed my dear," he said evasively. "I am astonished that you even made it this far. But overall I am not pleased with your decision."

"I am growing tired of sitting in bed all day with nothing but my own thoughts for company. Since you refuse to talk to me in there, I was forced to find you out here," she complained and then in a quieter voice added "I believe you knew that I would be unable to resist the pull of your music."

He remained silent.

"Why do you run from me, Erik?" she continued. "I have tried in my simple fashion to show you how I feel. That I see only your beautiful soul when I look on your face."

Erik opened and shut his mouth wordlessly.

Letting go of the chair, Christine's back straightened as she tried to appear intimidating.

"I left my fiancé because of you. For you. And now he's dead! And it wasn't even worth it!" She glared at him, daggers coming out of her eyes and hurling themselves at where he sat in stupefaction.

Whipping around as fast as her body would let her she hobbled back into Erik's room and slammed the door with a savage bang.

Erik was left staring after her like a hapless idiot.

But when a loud crash met his ears, he was up as fast as a bolt of lightning and in seconds he burst through the door, his heart pounding in his ears.

Christine was kneeling on the floor clutching her side, surrounded by the contents of the tea tray. Broken pieces of china were scattered everywhere, and the remnants of the tea was steadily soaking her nightgown.

He raced to her side, bending over to help her up.

"I don't need your help!" she spat, slapping his hand away. "Just go away and leave me be!"

Ignoring her protests, he calmly lifted her in his arms and slowly walked over to the bed. Christine halfheartedly fought back, pounding on his chest weakly with her fists. Exhausted, she folded into his chest and began to cry.

"I was ready to stay. I wanted to stay, Erik. But you didn't want me to. You sent me away," she wailed.

Erik froze, still holding Christine in his arms, afraid that she wouldn't continue if he did anything to distract her.

"I waited every night for you to come to me, to take me back to this house on the lake. And every night that I was greeted with silence was an affirmation that you no longer wanted anything to do with me. Now fate has brought me back to you, and you still don't want me!" she sobbed, gripping Erik's lapels and burrowing her face into his shirt. Her tears fell, soaking through his shirt.

He was stunned into speechlessness by her confession. Never did he think Christine would be the one to feel rejected. He had never intended for that to happen. He only wanted what was best for her, and a world of light with a well off young man whom she loved seem to be what she needed the most.

Perhaps he was wrong after all.

"W-what about your love for the boy?" he choked out, the words catching in his throat. He set her down gently on the bed and looked deep into her eyes, searching for an answer.

Her forehead wrinkled at the mention of Raoul. Still gripping his lapels in her hands, she pulled him closer so that she too, could look squarely in his eyes.

"I will always love Raoul." Those amber eyes shut instantly, shielding his hurt from her penetrating gaze.

"But," she continued. "I have come to realize that the love I have for him is the fondness of the memories that we shared as children, the feeling of contentment that I used to have when my father was alive. And for a long time, I thought that was what I wanted."

Erik opened his eyes warily and glanced at Christine. He dared not take a breath for fear of shattering the fragile hope that had begun to build in his chest. Christine released her grip and slid her hands down to into his. When she squeezed them tightly, the hope jumped from his chest and formed a ball in his throat, efficiently cutting off his air supply. He was beginning to feel heady.

Christine looked down at their entwined hands, willing herself to continue. She steeled herself and shyly raised her eyes to meet his again.

"But he never made me feel the way you do."

The breath that he had been holding escaped from his mouth as though he'd received a blow to the stomach. For a long moment he just stared at her, unsure of what to do.

Slowly he leaned in to close the distance between them, placing his hands on her waist to guide her into his embrace. He tilted his head and cautiously brought his lips down to meet hers. They were close enough to touch when Christine flinched.

Her attention was immediately drawn to her side, where Erik's hand rested. Concerned he followed her gaze and pulled his hand back when he realized he had inadvertently touched her injury. Spots of blood had begun to seep through her nightgown.

"You're bleeding," he murmured quietly.

He got off the bed abruptly and walked out, leaving Christine breathless and shaking, whether from the sudden pain or from disappointment she wasn't sure.

She could hear him rummaging in the next room, and shortly after he returned carrying a fresh nightgown and what looked like a torn sheet.

"Lie back Christine," he told her. "I must examine your wound. No doubt you tore it open when you fell."

She blanched. "I-I'm fine, Erik. It doesn't hurt that bad."

"Nonsense, don't be a child." Seeing the determination in her eyes, he tried a different approach. "I will have to change the bandage anyway Christine. You will get an infection if you don't keep a clean dressing on it. Would you rather I spend more time draining the infection out?"

He chuckled under his breath as Christine's eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"I thought so."

He came around the edge of the bed and assisted Christine to a prone position. He then pulled the covers over her feet and up to her waist. He scanned her face and she silently nodded at him, scrunching her eyes closed. He gingerly pushed up the hem of her nightgown so that it exposed the bandage.

Although still red and angry looking, Erik could clearly see the wound itself was on the mend. The hole was starting to knit back together and he was relieved that he didn't have to tell Christine she would need stitching. He smiled grimly. He'd probably have to knock her out for that. As long as she listened to him and didn't over exert herself, she would continue to heal at a decent pace.

He finished tying the makeshift bandage and readjusted her nightgown. "I'm afraid that I will need to go above for more medical supplies, and perhaps something for you to eat. You have destroyed all my spare sheets. Will you be all right for a few hours here by yourself?"

She opened her eyes and muttered a small "yes". The same feeling of disappointment that she had experienced a moment ago returned.

"Good," he replied, handing her the clean nightgown. He leaned over and placed a small kiss on her cheek, and then hurried to collect his cloak and hat for his journey above the ground.

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Please read and review! I get this dippy grin on my face every time my blackberry goes off with an email. ~J


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Thank you to all who reviewed! My little blackberry went crazy and it kept the smile on my face all weekend.

I had hoped to get this chapter up sooner, but unfortunately I was bit by a HORSE FLY (of all things!!!) while out camping over the weekend and suffered a severe allergic reaction which has kept me drugged on antihistamines for three days. Sheesh!

Anyway, here it is. ENJOY! ~J

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**Chapter 9 – Darkness**

The air was crisp and frigid as Erik skulked his way from the opera to Rue de Rivoli. The sky was pitch black and cloudless, the relentless storms of the past week finally receding.

A few citizens were out and about, taking advantage of the break in the weather. He was careful to pull down the brim of his hat and avert his gaze as he hustled past them.

Soon enough, he stood at the door to Nadir's flat. He rang the bell, stomping his feet to keep them warm while he waited. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the heavy wooden door opened a crack and Erik could see a wary eye surveying the scene. It lit up with a spark of recognition and Darius widened the gap with a dull "Good evening, Sir."

Erik ducked inside and Darius ushered him into the same small living room that he had last seen Nadir in, closing the door quietly behind him. He set his hat down but did not immediately take off his cloak. He peeled off his gloves and walked over to the fire, kneeling down to warm his frozen fingers. It was in this position that Nadir found him as he burst into the room.

"YOU!" Nadir roared. "I was wondering when you were going to slink back through my door!"

"Good evening to you as well _Daroga_," Erik said evenly, not looking at him.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"About what?" Erik countered. "My God, let a man warm his bones. It's quite chilly outside."

Furious, Nadir slammed a newspaper down on the table, knocking Erik's fedora off in the process. _"What were you thinking?"_

Erik glanced over to where his hat had come to rest. Nadir usually wasn't prone to showing so much anger. He had killed men for far lesser impudence. Only Nadir could speak to him in such a manner and hope to live.

Nonetheless he rose, his cloak unfurling around him, lending him a menacing quality. Nadir stood his ground. He snatched the paper and read the ghastly headline printed in large bold letters as Nadir continued to fume.

"I had no idea your intentions were to kill the Vicomte when I helped you concoct this ridiculous scheme.

Erik's back stiffened as his fingers clutched the paper.

"What happened? Could you not take her final rejection, so you succeeded in eliminating your competition once and for all? _Where is she?!"_

Erik snarled and his golden eyes blazed fire as he seized Nadir by the collar and pushed in against the wall. Raising him up so he was level, he brought his face close as he growled, "Watch what you say, _Daroga_!"

Nadir put his arms up in a gesture of the innocent. "May Allah have mercy on you. I should never have agreed to help you."

Erik abruptly let go of him and he slumped down the wall. Rising awkwardly, he attempted to brush down his shirt. He watched as Erik returned to the hearth, spanning his arms across the mantle, his cloak spreading out like some dark creature of the night.

"I have already had the authorities here questioning me," Nadir said in an exasperated tone.

Erik spun around, his mask unable to hide the fear that crept into his eyes.

"What did you tell them?" he demanded.

"I told them you were dead."

A breath of relief escaped from Erik's lips. He walked over to the chair and flopped into with all the grace of an elephant.

"I did not kill the boy. Oh God _Daroga_ do not look at me like that! The rouse worked, she came to me. But after many heated words and hurt feelings she left."

"You let her go?"

"Damn it, yes!" yelled Erik. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that I can act like a gentleman?"

Nadir only pressed his lips together and made a motion with his hand for him to continue.

"I was reluctant to let her leave with an image of me being so angry and hateful, so I went after her," he continued. "And that's when I found her, buried in a snow drift, bleeding from a gunshot wound."

Erik placed his hands over his face and muttered with agony in his voice, "They killed the boy, and they almost succeeded in killing her."

"Where is she now?"

"Safe. In my home." Erik wiped a fugitive tear from his eye and stood up resolutely.

"That is why I came to you. I need medical supplies and any information you may have on who could have perpetrated this crime. Christine says there were three of them, and although two didn't speak, she was sure they were English."

The room grew silent. For a few awkward moments the two men just stared at each other.

"I'm sorry I doubted you, my friend." Nadir said, slapping Erik on the back. "Of course I will assist you in any way I can."

He walked over to the door and signaled for Darius. Soon after Erik was carrying a bundle of medical supplies and hurrying to finish his other errands so he could get back to Christine.

XXXXXXXX

Daniel hurried down the deserted street towards the inn, almost breaking into a run. He could not believe his stroke of good luck.

He strode through the door, his chest puffed out in front of him. The innkeeper looked up at him, giving him a lazy smile before returning his attention to the guest register. In the kitchen his wife could be heard banging pots and pans, preparing the evening meal.

Daniel clambered up the stairs to the room and shut the door with glee. Ralph and Henry jumped at the noise. They were huddled around a small table playing cards. A thick haze hung in the air from their cigarette smoke.

"Nadir Khan," Daniel blurted, placing his hands on his knees while leaning over to catch his breath.

"Who?" Ralph queried.

Daniel held a finger up, signaling that it would be a moment. When he had sufficiently pulled enough air into his lungs he continued.

"It just so happens that I was privy to the conversation a couple of bobbies – oh excuse me _gendarmes_" he said, exaggerating the French accent, "were having about the _terrible tragedy_ of the Chagny murder."

"What? You were that close to law enforcement?" Ralph exclaimed.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute! I was minding my own business and they walked by chit-chatting. They never even saw me."

"So who is this Nadir Khan?" Ralph asked.

"If you would shut up for two seconds I could tell you!" Daniel shouted. He grabbed the empty chair and swung it around so that it was sitting away from the table. Straddling it, he sat down, propped his elbows on the back and leaned into the table.

"It all relates to this Opera Ghost fella'. Damned if I know who he is, but apparently the whole Chagny family was mixed up in it. Now, the first place the bobbies go is over to this Nadir's house. I'm thinking this guy might know where to find the fiancé." Daniel finished. "And I think we should pay him a visit."

XXXXXXXX

"You're cheating," Nadir said with a good natured laugh.

Darius gave him the most innocent of looks as he idly fingered the chess piece. Nadir was about to explain to him how he'd been caught when a loud rap sounded at the door.

"I wonder who could be calling this late," Nadir mused, focusing on the mantle clock. "I do hope Erik hasn't found more trouble. Better go see who it is, Darius."

Darius got up and disappeared. Nadir could hear muffled voices from the entryway. A moment later he returned, lead into the room by a man whose hand was clutching his throat. On his face was regret and sheer terror.

"Nadir Khan, I presume?" the man asked.

"Yes," he said guardedly. "Release my servant and perhaps I can be of service to you."

The man only laughed as he was joined by two other men. Nadir felt an ice cold trail of fear trickle down his spine.

"Where can I find the Opera Ghost?"

"The Opera Ghost is dead." Nadir replied.

"Oh that's a shame, ain't it boys?" the man tsk'd. "I was hoping he could send a message to the fiancé of that poor Chagny chap." He gave a sinister laugh. "Guess you will have to do that for me instead."

Darius clamped his eyes shut and Nadir's widened as the three men closed in around him.

XXXXXXXX

Erik found Christine seated in the living room when he returned.

"I thought I made it clear that you were supposed to stay in bed," he patronized.

No answer.

"Christine?"

Erik came around the chair to find her asleep, an open book perched precariously on her lap. He went to move her when the book slipped off and landed on the floor with a thud. She woke with a start.

"Oh! Erik, you frightened me! Well, w-hat I meant to say is that I was not expecting you."

"I know what you meant," he said softly. "Would you like me to help you to bed?"

"I'd rather not, if you don't mind," she said. "It's refreshing to have a change or scenery. I would very much like to remain here for a while."

"Are you sure you feel up to it?" he asked pensively, picking up the book and setting it on the table.

She nodded. "I will tell you when I feel that I need rest."

"Very well. What would you like to do, Christine?"

"Will you play for me?" she inquired.

Erik bowed slightly and walked over to the organ. He sat down and immediately immersed himself in a song that he used to sing to Christine when she knew him only as the Angel of Music. The melody floated to her and she closed her eyes, allowing the music to carry her away on waves of pure sound. He sang of love, innocent and sweet. His voice wrapped around her like a warm cocoon, and she swayed slightly in her seat.

Suddenly he stopped, the last note reverberating around the room as it died away. Christine's eyes reluctantly fluttered open. She didn't want him to stop.

"Would you care to join me for dinner?" he asked.

A smile spread across her face that lit up her eyes. "I'd be delighted to," she responded.

"Splendid. If you look over there," he said gesturing to a white box she hadn't noticed sitting by the door, "you will find everything you need to attend."

She got up carefully and went to retrieve the box. Lifting the lid she discovered a beautiful lavender robe settled against the crisp white paper. With a squeal she pulled it out and hugged it to her. It was made of shining silk, accented with white lace on the sleeves and around the collar. Tiny yellow roses decorated the edges of the lace.

"Oh Erik, it's exquisite!"

He smiled back at her, buoyed by her joy. "I'm glad you like it my dear. Beside the box you will also find the necessary supplies to take care of your injury. I will give you half an hour to get ready, after which I will meet you back here for dinner."

Before he knew what she was doing, she hobbled across the room and planted a quick kiss on his masked cheek.

"Thank you Erik," she said before she scurried off, robe in hand. He brought a hand up to the cool leather as he watched her leave.

Fifteen minutes later Christine flitted about the room. She had freshened up, set her hair as best she could without a mirror, and attempted to replace her bandage. But she was dismayed to find she couldn't locate a pair of scissors to cut it with.

Not wanting to enlist the aid of Erik, she resorted to looking through the drawers of his bureau. Feeling guilty and afraid she would be caught, she was relieved when she found them in the second drawer. She plucked them out and was about to slam the drawer closed when a flash of light caught her eye.

Intrigued, she pulled the drawer back open and glanced around for the glistening object. Nestled against a handkerchief was a small gold ring. The same gold ring that Erik had given to her and she later returned before she left with Raoul.

She debated only for a second before she picked it up and placed it on her ring finger. She snipped off the excess bandage and tied her robe closed. Adjusting her hair one last time, she opened the door and went back to the living room.

The lamps had been turned down low and a fire crackled in the hearth, casting an orange glow over the furniture. The chair had been pushed aside and in its place was a small round table with a burgundy table cloth and two chairs. The two slender candles that sat on top gave the room a romantic feeling. The aroma that permeated the air made her stomach churn with anticipation.

Erik stood near the organ, his back turned to Christine. She could tell immediately that he had changed into full evening dress. Upon hearing her enter, he swung around gracefully, meeting her eyes with a long penetrating gaze. The firelight danced off his black hair and softened the edges of the mask. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his tall, sleek form, finding something alluring in the way the low light complemented his figure.

"Good evening, Christine." He said formally, pulling out a chair for her to sit. She walked over to him and gave him her hand, allowing him to assist her to the table.

"It smells delicious Erik," she said quietly as Erik poured wine into her glass.

They ate in relative silence, feasting on roasted chicken with cabbage, soft bread and white wine. Both would steal furtive glances at one another. Every time their eyes would meet, they would smile shyly and look away, unsure of how to proceed.

When dinner was finished, Christine rose and began collecting the dishes. Erik, who had been nervously swishing the wine in his glass, jumped up and placed a restraining hand over hers.

"I did not invite you to dinner with the expectation that you were to clean up. Leave them," he said. He took her by the hand and lead her away from the table.

"You look beautiful tonight," Erik said after an awkward moment.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Still holding her hands he began to run his thumbs across the top of her fingers. He stopped when his thumb caressed a hard, cool object. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked down and brought her left hand up to examine it. The gold sparkled, reflecting in the candle light. He felt his mouth go dry, but he could not tear himself away from the ring.

"D-don't be angry Erik," Christine whispered.

His head jerked up. _Angry? You wear my ring and you thinkthat I would be angry??_ He opened his mouth to protest but no words came out.

"I-I was looking for scissors a-and I found it. I thought-"

Erik silenced her rambling by placing his lips over hers. Christine's eyes widened with surprised, but she didn't pull away. Erik broke the kiss, out of breath as he desperately searched her eyes for a reaction. She smiled warmly at him and stepped closer. Slowly, one hand and then the other threaded around his waist. He cupped her face with both his hands and once again sought her lips.

This kiss was more passionate than the first. Christine parted her lips and grazed his own with the tip of her tongue. Growing bolder from her desire, he opened his lips and let his tongue mingle with hers as his long finger tangled in her hair. Christine's hands were insistent on his back as she melted in his embrace, afraid to let go.

Finally the parted, their ragged breathing the only sound that could be heard. Although Erik's blood pounded in his ears, distantly he heard the sound of an alarm. Snapping out of the euphoria, he focused on the sound and realized it was the alarm that someone was on the shore of the lake.

"Wait here," he told Christine, all the tenderness gone from his voice. She detected an edge to it and her heart rose to her throat with dread.

Erik grabbed the punjab lasso and left the room. When he reached the bank, he scanned the darkness with his cat-like eyes. He could see two shadows in the murky distance. His fingers automatically coiled around the rope, ready to strike.

Wanting the advantage of surprise, he waited in the dark for the shadows to cross his path. They were almost upon him and he could see one was hunched over, held steady by the other.

"Not too much farther I hope, Master," came the unmistakable voice of Darius.

Erik's heart constricted in his chest as he stepped out of the shadows and set eyes on Nadir. There wasn't a lot of light, but he could see that Nadir's face was bloody and his left arm appeared to be broken.

"Good God friend, what happened?" he asked in alarm.

Nadir looked up at him through eyes that were almost swollen shut.

"I have a message for you."

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	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Once again, thank you to all who have been reading and reviewing. I hope that I have conveyed all the feelings in this chapter adequately. Enjoy! ~J

* * *

**Chapter 10 – The Calm Before the Storm**

Erik rushed past Christine, Nadir in his arms. Darius, who for the most part remained unscathed, trailed along behind them.

"Bring me some water!" he barked at her as he kicked open the door to her old room. "And some blankets!"

He placed Nadir on the empty bed and propped him up with the pillows.

"You look terrible old man," he said grimly.

"I still look better than you," Nadir chuckled and then winced at the pain the action caused.

"I think we can add broken ribs to your list of injuries," he said as Christine walked through the door, balancing the wash basin on top of the blankets. She set them down on the floor next to Erik and backed up against the wall to stay out of his way.

Erik dabbed at the blood around Nadir's mouth and nose. The laughter in his eyes died as he asked, "Who did this to you?"

Nadir pushed Erik's hand away and wet his split lips. "The men who murdered the Vicomte." He took a breath. "They want Christine."

Christine whimpered and pressed herself harder against the wall. Erik stood up and pulled her into a protective embrace. She threw her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.

"You know I would never let anything happen to you," he said smoothing her hair with one hand. He could feel her nod, but her grip didn't loosen.

"They have given you twenty-four hours," Nadir said. He struggled to sit up and gestured for Darius to come closer. "G-give him the letter."

Darius stuck his hand in his pocket, pulled out and crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Erik.

_You have twenty-four hours to get the deeds to the _

_Changy's land plus 300,000 __francs. If you_

_do not hand over what I'm demanding, I will be forced_

_to inform the proper authorities that you murdered _

_your beloved fiance for money in order to run off_

_with your lover. Meet me at the abandoned church_

_ten miles south of Paris tomorrow at midnight._

Erik threw the paper down in disgust. "He just signed his own death warrant!" he spat.

Nadir coughed and flopped back down to the pillows. "He-he," he rasped, "could be trouble. He w-was asking about you."

"Don't speak," Erik told him quietly, releasing Christine to bring the wet cloth to his forehead.

"N-no Erik. He is cunning. You must surprise him."

Erik's hand dropped to his side as he contemplated. Slowly, he got up and walked back over to Christine. He lifted her chin and looked unsteadily into her eyes.

"I will make this all go away," he began. "You will never have to live in fear of them again. But to do that, I need your help."

She met his gaze, tears filling her vision. He gently kissed them away as they fell down her cheeks.

"Are you brave enough to meet him again?" She looked down. "Look at me," he whispered. "I will be with you the entire time. But I need you to distract them long enough for me to strike. Can you do this?"

She searched his face. Even through the mask she could sense his devotion and determination. And in that moment she knew that Erik would not let any harm come to her. She trusted him completely.

"Yes, Erik."

"Good," he replied, holding her tight to him.

"I-if I may Sir," Darius cut in, "suggest that I be allowed to tend to my master now."

"Nonsense." Erik stated. "You are both guests in my home. You need to rest as well."

"With all due respect," he said evenly, "what I need is to fulfill my duty."

Sensing that Darius would not budge on the subject, Erik simply replied, "As you wish." Taking Christine by the hand he lead her from the room. "Please don't hesitate to ask if there is anything you need. Good night, _Daroga_."

He shut the door softly. "Come Christine, it's late and you have been up far too long."

She watched as he doused all the candles in the living room and then followed as he took her by the hand and lead her through the inky blackness to his bedroom.

She heard the soft moan of the hinges as the door was eased closed. When Erik's hand left hers, her heart tightened in her chest with apprehension. Naturally she assumed that he was lighting the lamp on the bedside table, but she grew nervous when everything around her remained dark. Wrapping her arms around herself she glanced around in a futile effort to find him.

"I can't stop thinking about earlier," his voice whispered softly in her ear.

Reaching around from behind, he laced his arms around her and brought his face down so that she could feel the cool leather of his mask against her cheek. She breathed in deeply, inhaling his manly scent of soap and spices.

His fingers crept to the knot of her sash and deftly started to work it loose. Christine rolled her head back and rested it on his shoulder. She raised her hand and entwined her fingers in his thick hair as he trailed the back of his hand down her neck to her shoulders. A warm sensation rushed through her and settled in the pit of her stomach as he eased the robe off them and let it fall on the floor.

He scooped her up in one motion and with two long strides he reached the bed. The blood was pounding so hard in his ears he was sure she could hear it. No doubt she could feel the thumping of his heart as well. He set her down gently and sat beside her. For a moment he did nothing, keeping absolutely still. And it was an agonizing moment for Christine, who was lightheaded with emotion.

A match was struck, and in the flash of light she could see the barely contained desire burning in his eyes. He leaned down and the winking light grew brighter as the wick of the lamp took the flame from the match. He stared at her, as if trying to memorize every detail of her face, giving Christine the distinct feeling that he was afraid it would all turn out to be a dream. After all, how many nights had she lay awake in bed longing for the same thing?

She sat up straight and focused her dark brown eyes into his smokey amber ones. "I already wear your ring, Erik. I have no intention of taking it off."

For a dizzying moment his world faltered and time stood still. _What did she say?_ Erik barely had time to register her words before her lips met his own. Her passion was like a well spring and he crossed the burning desert of despair and drank eagerly from her cup.

A rush of cold air met his face as Christine lifted his mask away. It had the same effect as a slap, bringing him out of ecstasy and back down to reality.

"N-no!" he whispered, taking hold of her shoulders, adeptly putting distance between them. "Not this way."

Christine's brow wrinkled in confusion, the beginnings of rejection settling across her features.

"I have spent the better part of my life waiting for this moment," he began shakily, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "But I cannot take from you what is not yet rightfully mine."

Replacing his mask, he stood up and placed a more chaste kiss on her lips.

"Good night, my love. I shall be right outside should you need anything."

When he was gone, Christine exhaled heavily and slid down the headboard to the pillow. She put her hands on her forehead, trying to calm her nerves and still her beating heart. She fell asleep with the memory of his kiss lingering on her lips.

XXXXXXXX

Erik woke and sat up with a groan. He was getting too old to be sleeping on the ground. What little sleep he did require would be better spent in a bed. But it had been the safest choice. He knew that if he had stayed with Christine any longer he would have lost the last shred of his control. As much as he wanted too...as much as he could imagine taking her right there and willing, he could not bring himself to do anything that might tip the balance of their newly formed relationship. Above all, he did not want to be the cause of any regrets.

Standing up, he stretched languidly and rubbed the kinks from his neck and back. An ominous feeling settled over him. In mere hours Christine would be faced with perhaps the most difficult challenge of her life. He hated to put her in that situation, but he knew of no other way to lure those despicable men to him.

His cat-like eyes already accustomed to the perpetual darkness, he lit a candle and tiptoed to his room. He opened the door slowly and peeked in. The room was still dark. Padding softly over to her he lifted the candle so that it shone over her sleeping form. The dull light was kind to her, its glow cascading over her body. For a long moment Erik just watched her sleep, reveling in the candid glimpse of her with her guard down.

She stirred suddenly and he hastily retreated, not wanting to be caught spying on her.

He returned to the hallway and walked over to what would now become Nadir's room. Knocking, he put his ear to the door, listening to see if its occupants had risen. He heard scuffling from within and then the door was flung open.

Darius stood before him, looking very much like he'd had the same "restful" night as Erik. His hair was disheveled and dark rings circled tired eyes. Erik mused lightly that at least he had a mask to hide the after effects of his fatigue. Darius stepped aside, allowing him to enter.

Nadir looked oddly small tucked against the pillows. Darius had managed to wrap his left arm in a makeshift sling. He was awake, but initially it was hard to tell because his eyes were so swollen. Erik felt a sting of regret. Never had he imagined that Nadir would get pulled into the fray. But then again, he had obviously underestimated the greedy tenacity of those thugs.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Nadir asked, rousing Erik from his thoughts.

"I honestly see no other way," he replied sighing. "I can't exactly drop them off on the authorities' doorstep. This is the only way."

"I understand," Nadir said in a sympathetic tone. "But how does Christine feel about all this?"

Erik leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. "She is trying her best to be brave, even though I know she's terrified. I only hope she can forgive me for killing those bastards."

"You must tread carefully Erik," Nadir said seriously. "Although I agree with you that this is the best course of action, try to remember that she is a fragile soul, and she will need constant support and companionship when this is all over."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I think that is something I can handle," he chuckled.

"Yes," Nadir said with a knowing look." It seems that you two have been getting on nicely. I hope that once all this is done both of you can find the happiness you so desperately need."

Erik opened his mouth to speak, but Nadir interrupted him.

"Now, I have Darius to take care of me. You go look after Christine."

Erik shot him a grateful look, his eyes speaking volumes when his tongue failed.

XXXXXXXX

Christine was in the living room when he returned. He smiled when he seen she had put the robe back on, and it grew bigger as he remembered it hitting the floor. But his amusement faded when Christine turned around and he seen the look of misery on her face. He chewed his lip and thought for an awful moment that perhaps she had taken his resistance the night before as rejection.

He took a cautious step toward her.

"Good morning Christine," he said softly. "I hope you slept well."

A bit of the gloominess receded as she replied with a twinkle in her eyes, "Well enough."

Mentally he let out the breath he'd been holding. Encircling her in his arms he tried to sooth her nerves.

"I know this is difficult for you. Not only are you in fear for your life, but you're going to come face to face with the killer of your young man."

She nodded, tears brimming as she look guiltily away. This action was not lost on Erik. Rather, he'd expected it.

He skillfully directed her to the chair and eased her down. Kneeling before her he gathered her hands in his and looked at her with a serious expression.

"It is a well known fact that I have not exactly behaved in a civilized manner when it comes to this subject, and for that I am deeply sorry. But I cannot deny you your feelings for him. You would grieve just the same for a friend or a brother. Regardless of what you may have felt towards him in the end, he was still your friend. Grieve for him, Christine. It's all right."

She felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She let the tears come, her whole body shaking with her sobs. Erik rubbed his hand up and down her back while whispering consoling words until her crying subsided. He wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Would you like me to play for you?" he asked.

XXXXXXXX

A short time later Erik had saddled Cesar up and he and Christine were on their way to the abandoned church. He had a strange feeling of foreboding as he held Christine tightly. She seemed to feel it too, since she comfortably settled against him while they rode.

It wasn't long before they reached the road that lead to the church. Daniel and his henchmen were no where to be seen. Nonetheless, choosing to err on the safe side he pulled the horse up short and helped Christine dismount. She would have to walk the remaining distance so as to appear alone.

"Remember Christine," he warned. "I will be hiding in the shadows. But no matter what happens, do not call for me or say my name."

She nodded and started down the path leading through the cemetery to the church.

"Christine," he called back.

She turned around.

"I love you," he said as he spurred the horse into a gallop.

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*Lets out a breath* There you have it. A bit of fluff and more foreshadowing. R&R! ~J


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Hey ya'll. LOL a few days ago I was playing Gears of War with the fam and the game had a phrase for one of the achievements. I liked it so well (and immediately thought about the scene you're about to read) that I decided to make it the title, even though it in no way fits with my theme.

Anyhoo, I hope everyone enjoys this. Justice, like revenge, is a dish best served cold. ~J

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**Chapter 11 – Variety is the Spice of Death**

Christine walked quietly on the path that weaved between the headstones, her footfalls making a light crunching sound as she wound her way to the church.

Abandoned was a relative term, she thought. More like decrepit or condemned. The stone walls were crumbling in places, the door hung haphazardly on its hinges, and there was a giant hole in the roof, causing it to sink in the middle. The whole miserable scene was surrounded by a rusty wrought iron fence.

Tiny snowflakes had begun their slow descent from the cloudy night sky. Christine clutched her cloak tightly to her throat, trying earnestly to keep the icy air out. She clung to thoughts of Erik to keep her warm.

He loved her!

Although the knowledge gave her the resolution to do what needed to be done, she was slightly perturbed that he had said it while riding away, therefore not giving her a chance to reciprocate the feeling. She supposed the important thing was that he had said it at all, and she chose to dwell on that instead.

She leaned against the heavy wooden door and pushed it open far enough that she could squeeze through. The inside of the church hadn't fared any better than the outside. The beams from the fallen roof had been pushed into a pile and lay rotting in a corner. The pews directly beneath the hole were dilapidated and soft from absorbing all the moisture. Others around the nave had been tipped over. A small mound of ice and snow had formed underneath the hole, spreading across the center of the nave. Following the trail of snowflakes Christine glanced to the rafters and saw that beneath the icicles that had formed, the wood was charred black by fire. The scorch marks created a path that went down the wall to the floor.

She shuddered as much from the eerie feeling as she did from the cold. Candles were strewn about near the altar, and books of scripture were scattered everywhere, long forgotten as the congregation no doubt ran for their lives.

She wondered if Erik was already hiding, watching her every move.

A resounding bang broke the silence and Christine whipped around to see Daniel striding over the door that was now lying on the floor. Ralph followed closely behind as Henry stood up and dusted himself off.

"Well, well. Aren't we healing nicely?" Daniel said coming up the steps of the altar. "Why, wearing that you'd think we missed you altogether." He gestured crudely to the simple gray dress that she had put on. It was the only one loose enough to go over her bandages and not aggravate the wound. "But we know differently, don't we?" he taunted, poking a finger at Christine's collarbone. She flinched and tried to retreat a few steps but Ralph and Henry impeded her progress from behind. She glanced over her shoulder at each one of them before taking a few paces forward.

Absently, she began to twist the ring on her finger to dispel some of her nervous energy.

"Dudn't take you long to move on, does it?" he said with a slimy smile, eyeing the ring. He ran his tongue over his lips while his eyes roamed over her body, coming to rest on her décolletage.

Ralph and Henry grabbed her by each arm as Daniel stepped up and trailed a finger down her cleavage. "You're nothing but a common whore. I'm going to enjoy this." He grabbed a handful of hair on the back of her head and pulled down sharply, exposing her neck. Bringing his face closer, he crushed his lips to hers. All she could do was whimper.

From his hiding spot Erik clenched his hands into fists around the Punjab lasso. _Not yet…not yet…_he willed himself. _Wait for it…_

Daniel released Christine savagely and looked at her with a satisfied smirk. "I knew you'd like that."

She glared at him with all the hatred she could muster before she spit in his face.

"BITCH!" he screamed, slapping her with the back of his hand.

The echo of it reached Erik, and he crept forward, uncoiling the rope.

"Bring her here!" Daniel ordered, wiping his face off on his sleeve.

The two men tightened their grip and dragged her to a discarded table. She kicked and screamed, struggling against them, but her voice was lost as they slammed her down. Daniel came up behind them, untucking his shirt. "I'll show you what happens to people who disobey me."

Henry held of her arms above her head while Ralph forcibly spread her legs. Daniel's excitement grew as he pushed the hem of her dress up. He felt himself harden. Needing to satisfy his urge he climbed onto the table and straddled her, running his hand up her thigh. When he pressed himself down on her, Christine could feel his bulge against her leg. He crushed her with all of his weight as he leaned forward and began kissing her neck, his hands eagerly seeking her breasts.

Christine sobbed silently, wondering how much longer Erik would wait. Was he even there yet? What if he wasn't, and he didn't make it in time? Would he still want her if she was soiled, violated against her will be another man?

A thin piece of catgut sliced through the air and in an instant, Ralph dropped to the ground soundlessly. Daniel saw him fall out of the corner of his eye. He sat up, looking around. He slid off the table, yanking Christine with him. Using her as a shield, he called out into the darkness.

"Who's there?"

He looked at Henry and flicked his head in the direction the rope came from. Henry looked less than enthused, but after a stern look from Daniel, he went to investigate.

"I'm warning you," Daniel shouted after him. "I have no particular attachment to her life. Come any closer and I'll kill her."

Silence.

Henry tried to keep as quiet as possible as he searched the dark corners. He did not notice the black shadow that lurked behind him until it was too late. He was just crossing the threshold and had stepped on the fallen door when Erik swung down from the rafters and kicked him through the doorway.

Henry fell head over heels down the steps, coming to rest at the iron fence. He scrambled to his feet just in time to see the shadow materialize into a man as Erik lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar.

"W-who are you?" Henry stammered.

Erik gave him an evil smile, his voice dripping with malevolence as he leaned in and whispered in his ear, "I'm the last thing you're going to see before I take you to Hell."

Henry brought his arms up between Erik's hands in a move that broke his grip loose. He swung his fists but Erik nimbly dodged out of the way. When Erik turned his back, Henry saw the opportunity and jumped on him, wrapping his thick arms around his throat.

The sheer size and girth of the man surprised Erik momentarily as he struggled, clawing at his throat. His knees started to shake and he was afraid they would buckle under the weight. He began to move side to side, trying to shake Henry off. It was becoming difficult to breathe. Looking around the grounds for something that would help, he spotted the fence behind them. Summoning all his energy, he pushed off with his feet, propelling them backward. He heard an ungodly shriek and then felt Henry's arms go slack.

Heaving from the adrenaline and lack of oxygen, Erik pivoted. Henry lay before him, suspended by the iron spikes of the fence. He could see the decorative tips, bloodied as they pierced his torso and protruded from his vest. His body convulsed with spasms and a gurgling noise could be heard from the blood filling his lungs.

Pulling the corner of his mouth up in disgust, he whirled around and went back inside.

Daniel had been watching the gloom, unaware of what had just taken place outside. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he found himself jumping at every small sound. He didn't have to wait long. Erik stormed over the broken door and stalked toward him.

"You!" Daniel shouted when he spotted the mask.

Erik wasn't certain what he meant, but it was obvious he'd seen him or had been seen somewhere. But he didn't have time to dwell on the occasion as he strode menacingly down the aisle.

Daniel was still holding Christine in front of him, and he gripped her tighter in a stranglehold as Erik drew near.

"Don't come any closer!" he threatened. He pulled a pistol from his pocket and pointed it at Erik. When he didn't stop, Daniel brought the barrel to Christine's temple. She was frozen with fear, her eyes pleading with Erik to do something...anything.

"I'll scatter her pretty face so far even the vultures won't know where to start looking!"

Still he advanced.

Unnerved, Daniel looked from Christine to Erik and then back again. He was losing control of the situation, which was something he did not like. Thinking to catch Erik off guard, he cocked the pistol and whipped it back on him.

Hearing the click of the gun being cocked, Christine had no time to think before instinct spurred her into action. She brought the heel of her boot down on Daniel's foot. Out of surprise and pain, he let go of her and she grabbed at his arm just as the pistol went off.

The bullet blazed upward, burying itself into a rotting, water logged beam. The force of the impact was more than the beam could bear, the shock causing it to splinter. The roof, which had been supported by the beam, came crashing down on Erik.

He heard Christine scream and saw Daniel grab her once more as darkness clouded his vision.

XXXXXXXX

Erik woke some time later, his head pounding so hard it gave him the urge to vomit. A paralyzing panic washed over him as he remembered.

_Christine!_

He struggled to lift the heavy debri from his shoulders and back. Pushing it to one side he sat up and looked around. Ralph still lay on the floor, the Punjab lasso around his neck, but otherwise the church was empty.

He rose unsteadily to his feet and scrambled out into the courtyard. A dense fog had settled over the tombstones, making it hard to see. He hurried down the steps, past the lifeless body of Henry still impaled on the fence. He ran around to the back of the church where he had tethered Cesar. The horse was missing.

A sickening feeling tightened his stomach.

Christine was gone.

* * *

**A/N: **Sometimes I think that I write the mystery/suspense/thriller parts better than I do the romantic parts. But I guess that's why it pays to practice. Let me know what you think about either (or both of them). Its good to know how I'm doing. Ttfn ~J


	13. Chapter 13

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**Chapter Twelve – Into the night**

The wind whipped ferociously around Erik, its icy tendrils clawing at his cloak, making it flap madly behind him as he ran about frantically searching for Christine. He tried to calm down, telling himself that he could accomplish nothing until his mind was rational. But it did little to quell the panic he felt. All he could think of was his promise to protect her from harm, and the guilt at his failure to do just that. She was gone…and anything that had or would happen to her would be his fault. He wiped the tears brusquely away from the corners of his eyes. He would never forgive himself.

He came to a stop amid the headstones, heaving a sigh that threatened to shatter his heart. A thousand thoughts buzzed around his brain like angry insects. _Where would they have gone? How long ago did they leave? Should I tell Nadir? No! He is not in any condition to assist me and it would waste precious time traveling back to the opera. I'm wasting enough time as it is._

Erik concluded that he would be better off traveling alone because he knew he would push himself to the breaking point, not resting until Christine was safe in his arms.

He pushed aside the feelings of guilt and regret. They were weak emotions that would ultimately get in the way. He needed to focus on resentment and anger. An eerie calm settled over him as the transformation took place. He straightened up, his jaw set with purpose. His golden eyes seemed to glow with nefarious intent as he prowled around the old churchyard looking for clues.

It did not take him long to discover Cesar's hoof prints leading away from the macabre scene. They appeared to be heading west. Erik broke into a run, knowing the longer he delayed, the more likely it would be that it would start snowing again, covering the fresh tracks.

XXXXXXXX

Christine shifted her weight as she rode on the back of Cesar. She didn't like the close proximity she was to Daniel. He sat behind her as the horse galloped at break neck speed, one arm around her in a possessive grip while the other held the reins.

Daniel had not planned on taking her hostage. He had envisioned taking the money and killing her ruthlessly. He had not imagined that the masked man he'd seen at the estate would swoop in like some dark avenging protector. Honestly, he thought that the figure was just some unscrupulous transient who had seen Christine during a weak moment and choose to exploit it to his advantage. Maybe that empty threat about her "lover" wasn't so far fetched after all.

Daniel grimaced. Now instead of enjoying his pay load in some exotic foreign country he was stuck hauling the little bit around, possibly pursued by some half crazed demon. He wasn't sure if the rubble had succeeded in killing him, but to be safe, he chose to keep Christine alive as a bargaining tool.

So to prevent her from simply letting herself fall from the horse, Daniel had torn a strip of cloth from the bottom of her cloak and bound her hands in front of her. Repeating the process he took another strip and tied it around her waist, stringing the excess material behind her and wove it around his own.

They had traveled in this fashion for most of the night, and dawn was just beginning to peak over the horizon behind them. He made sure to stick to roads that were less traveled, keeping away from people who might question why the pair was out in the elements.

Christine had sunk into a state of apathy. Her heart was crushed along with Erik under the pile of wood and stone. Daniel had immediately seized hold of her after the pistol went off. She hardly had time to glance back at the rubble. The glimpse she did get was of Erik lying motionless, barely visible under the debris. If Erik was dead, she no longer cared whether she lived or not.

Daniel was reluctant to stop and rest for the simple fact that he wasn't sure if they were being followed. But the horse was beginning to tire and he knew it would need food and water if he hoped to continue. When they came to the next town he headed toward the livery stables. Christine felt the blade of a knife press into the flesh of her back when a middle-aged gentleman stepped up to take hold of the reins.

Surreptitiously Daniel untied the knot around his waist and wound the tether around his wrist a few times. When the man turned his back, he grabbed her by the arm, dragging her along as he slid off the horse. He quickly untied the bindings around her wrists, shoving the material into his pocket. He gave her a fierce look of warning that squelched any ideas she had to appeal to the man for help. Keeping her close to him so no one could see the tether, he pushed her in front and placed a hand on her shoulder to guide her.

"Right then," Daniel said to the stable hand. "We'll be back in a bit. Come along Dearie, let's go get some grub."

Christine shuddered at his attempt to play the somewhat caring husband, but apparently the act worked because the stable hand nodded and led Cesar to the water trough.

"Keep yer head down!" Daniel hissed pushing the hood of her cloak back on her head as they entered the crowded alleys of the small but thriving town. "I don't need the hassle of you being recognized."

Christine bit back her tears, but did as she was told. She would glance up from time to time, occasionally spotting a bill fold or coin purse on its journey from some unsuspecting citizen to Daniel's pocket. It was in this manner that half a loaf of bread found its way into her hands.

"Eat it and be quick about it," Daniel commanded. "You are of no use to me if you die of starvation."

"What do you intend to do with me?" Christine whispered.

Daniel stopped their progress and abruptly grabbed Christine, dragging her into a deserted alley way where he shoved her up against the wall.

"Quiet!" he seethed, placing a dirty hand over her mouth. "I may have said you are no good to me dead, but so help me, if you make trouble I will do things to you that are so horrendous you'll be begging me to end your miserable life! Got that?"

Christine nodded obediently with wide fearful eyes.

"Good. Enough of this then." He once again seized her shoulder and led her back to the stables.

The man was no where in sight when they returned, which only made it easier for Daniel to skip out without payment. He did a quick sweep of the place, pausing to pick up a set of manacles that lay discarded underneath a work bench. Stuffing them in his pocket he walked over to Cesar and led the horse out of the stall. He put the saddle on glancing up at Christine while he worked to be sure she didn't run. Her back was turned to him and she was gazing out toward the road with sad longing.

_Maybe she won't be so hard to break after all. Her spirit already seems injured, _he thought darkly, deeply appeased by her compliance.

Once everything was ready, he lifted Christine on to the saddle and they rode out into the wilderness.

XXXXXXXX

Erik had been tracking them for what seemed like days when in reality it had only been hours. He perceived the sun should be high in the sky by now, but the clouds hung low in the air, threatening to unleash their fury once again. For now he was grateful for the dark hue they cast over everything.

Travel was becoming ridiculous. Hate and anger could only fuel him on for so long, but he was growing weary and needed to rest. He cursed Daniel twice over for stealing his horse. He would have made greater time if he hadn't been on foot. Sooner or later Erik knew that he would have to acquire another horse if he wanted any chance of closing the distance between them.

Judging by his own fatigue he assumed that by this far Cesar would also have been in need of a rest. Sure enough, when he rounded the next bend in the road he came upon a small town. On the outskirts was a building that stood away from the others. It would be as good a place as any to start.

Erik grit his teeth together. He was not happy about having to enlist the help of strangers, or being around people to begin with. But if he were to have any chance of discovering where Daniel went with Christine, he knew that interactions such as these would become necessary.

He approached the open barn door and cautiously stepped inside. As luck would have it, he happened upon the very building he was looking for – the livery stables.

A middle-aged man walked across the stables with a bunch of leather straps and bridles in his arms. He was short with a paunchy stomach. What was left of his blonde hair was slowly turning to gray, only filling in at the sides of his head. Most of it seemed to gather on his face in the form of an unruly beard and moustache. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed a dark black shadow.

"You there," the shadow rasped and the man turned. What he seen could have easily struck fear in any man's heart. There before him was a tall figure, dressed in evening attire with a dark cloak and a fedora atop his head. Interestingly enough, the mask was the last thing he noticed, because the shadow continued to breathe heavily, desperately trying to catch its breath.

"Good Heaven's man!" the stable hand exclaimed, dropping his load. "You look exhausted."

When the man took a few steps toward him, Erik backed away out of habit. Willing his legs not to buckle beneath him, he said in short gasps, "Did a man and woman…come through here…on… a white horse?"

The man suddenly stiffened, his kind eyes taking on a harsh look. He went back and scooped up the pile of metal and leather, trying to keep his hands busy and the anger from boiling over at the stranger's question.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact I did," the man said in a clipped tone. "The two of them blew in here and asked if I would tend to their horse. They said they were going for something to eat, so I thought I might as well head to the house and grab myself something as well. When I got back, they'd run off. No payment, no thank you, nothing!"

Erik walked over and sat unceremoniously on a bail of hay. "What about the woman that was with him?" he asked. "Did she appear to be all right?"

For a moment the man lifted his head toward the ceiling, trying to recall the details of the earlier encounter. "Come to think of it, she was really quiet. And she was always real close to him, no matter where they went. But other than that, she looked fine." He heard a sigh of relief. "Why do you ask?"

Erik looked up at him with a wry smile. "He stole my horse."

The man's eyebrows rose with a quizzical look. "All this for a horse? You look like you've been walking for days. Why then, all the concern about the girl's well being?"

He watched as Erik's smile faded and a look of pain and loss crossed the eyes beneath the mask. Watching him wrestle to maintain his indifferent countenance, he understood and felt deeply sorry for the stranger before him.

"Do you perchance know which direction they went?"

"Yes. They continued on down that road," the man said gesturing out the other open door to the road that led through the town toward a dark forest.

"Thank you." Erik said as he stood up and brushed the hay from his trousers. He started in the direction of the road when the man called back to him.

"Hold up now," he said moving to block Erik's path. "You aren't going anywhere in that condition. A good meal and a few minutes off your feet will do wonders for you. You cannot rescue her if you haven't the strength to carry yourself out these doors. Which reminds me, you'll be needing a horse."

XXXXXXXX

A short while later Erik found himself seated at a table in the modest farm house over a steaming bowl of vegetable stew. The hearty meal warmed his insides and took the chill from his bones. As much as he had tried to protest, he was grateful for the man's stubbornness. He could already feel his strength building back up.

"I wish to thank you for taking me into your home and offering me the things in which I require," he said politely.

The man walked over to the table and poured Erik a cup of tea.

"Please, call me Pierre."

"I am unaccustomed to the kind words and actions that you have shown me today. I am deeply appreciative." Taking several gold coins from the inside of his waistcoat, Erik laid them on the table in front of Pierre.

"What's this?" Pierre asked him.

"For the services you rendered on my horse, and for payment of the new horse of which you offered me." Erik replied.

"Where are you from, Stranger?" Pierre said as he wandered back to the stove to remove fresh bread from the oven.

"Erik. My name is Erik. I come from Paris."

Pierre let out a low whistle as he handed a slice to Erik. "That's almost a day's walk from here. No wonder you were exhausted."

"Exhausted or not, I need to get back on their trail." Erik said as he sopped up the remaining contents of his stew with the piece of bread.

Pierre sat down thoughtfully. "If I were running, I would want to leave the country right away. There isn't much out this way, but if you continue on in a westward direction you'll come across a port. That's it!" he exclaimed. "I bet their headed to Le Havre."

Erik rose immediately, almost tipping over the chair. "How do I get there?"

"Take this road as you continue west. Once it ends follow the Seine. It will take you right to the port." Seeing that it was no use to delay him further Pierre said, "Come. I will prepare a horse for you."

"Thank you my friend," Erik said humbly. "The kindness you have shown me tonight will surely not be forgotten."

Soon Erik was riding away on a beautiful Arabian stallion. In the saddle bag was another loaf of bread that Pierre insisted that he take. Le Havre was a little less than a day away and he figured that if he rode all night he could make it there by early morning.

XXXXXXXX

The sun was just coming up when he reached the bustling port of Le Havre. Even at the early morning hour, droves of people hustled about.

The deep throated whistle of a horn brought him to a stop just in time to see a massive ship with the name _H.M.S. Josephine_ painted on the side pull out from the dock and make its way slowly into the ocean. He nudged the horse closer to the gangplank. It was here that he spotted Cesar tied up to a mooring station at the dock. Christine and Daniel were no where around. He looked back at the ship and immediately hopped off his horse, running down the ramp.

Grabbing a dock worker roughly by the collar, he slammed him into a stack of wood crates.

"_M-monsieur?" _the startled worker exclaimed.

"Where is that ship going?" he growled.

The boy looked puzzled for a moment before stammering, "L-Liverpool."

The blood rushed to Erik's ears, blocking out the sound as he roared, "England? _Merde!_" Letting go of the boy he tried to calm himself down. "When does the next ship leave?"

"There is not another ship heading to Liverpool until next month Sir," he said hesitantly. A murderous look crossed Erik's eyes, prompting the boy to speak once more. "B-But if you don't mind traveling by less comfortable means, there is a barge that will be leaving in two hours."

"Very well," he said. Depositing some coins into the boy's hand he looked him straight in the eye. "Barter passage aboard the vessel with what I have given you. Keep what remains for your trouble. I will need enough room for myself and two horses. In one hour and forty five minutes I shall meet you back here." Turning on his heel, he left the boy gawking behind him.

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A/N: Next friday I will be leaving for a 10 day vacation. I have the next few chapters mapped out, I just need to get them down on paper. I will try to get at least one more chapter out before I leave. Even though I won't be at a computer the whole time (ack-I will be going insane!), I will be taking my notepad with me, so I should come back with lots more to post. Happy weekend everyone! R&R ~J


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **Greetings everyone! I'm back (and exhausted)! I have spent the last week hiking around the wilderness. I must confess that I didn't find much time to write, but I did get one chapter out inbetween sleeping and dragging my butt up and down mountains.

First of all, the title of this chapter is a lyric from one of my favorite songs: On the Turning Away by Pink Floyd. I thought it was fitting. Second, this is another filler chapter. Not one of my best. I'm not too pleased with it (really I have felt an absense of inspiration as of late - I attribute it to stress and a certain "fever" that overtakes people this time of the year) but it is necessary to keep the story moving. Things will start to pick up after this.

In this chapter Christine continues to struggle, uncertain if Erik is alive or dead. Poor girl. She wants to believe that he is coming for her, but starts to believe the worst as the miles continue to separate them.

So here you go. Sorry I made you wait so long for this. ~J

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Chapter Thirteen – Light is Changing to Shadow**

The earth rocked slowly from side to side, swinging like a pendulum. Its steady motion lulled Christine into a state of comfortable calm. Back and forth, it continued evenly on, so much that she was reluctant to leave her peaceful slumber.

Lazily she opened her eyes and stared at the gray ceiling. The ugly paint covered metal with big thick rivets that held the seams together. The world continued to rock around her. Although the rhythm had placated her during her sleep, she became aware that she was resting on something hard and unforgiving.

She sat up sluggishly and looked around. The metal expanded to all sides of her, covered in the same ugly paint. There were no windows and only a small oil lamp that hung on a hook illuminated the room in a faint yellow gleam. The glow rose and faded with the swaying motion. There was not much to see in the dim light; an old stand with a wash basin, a rickety wooden table with the paint flaking off in some areas, and a chair made of the same shabby material. In the center of the tiny room an iron bed took up most of the space.

Perplexed, Christine attempted to stand but the soft clink of metal stopped her progress. She looked back in the direction of the bed where she discovered the two manacles that Daniel had taken from the livery stable earlier in their travels. They had been shackled together, one secured around the bed post and the other fastened around her ankle.

Her blood turned to ice. What had happened?

She carefully raised herself up as much as she was able and peered over the rail of the footboard. Daniel was sprawled on his stomach, his arms and legs spread out around him, one foot dangling off the edge of the bed.

Placing a hand on her chest, Christine tried to calm her mounting panic. She took deep breaths in order to stave off the dizziness and waves of nausea. Her head began to pound and when she raised her hand she felt a large bump at the base of her skull.

The last thing she remembered was her reaction when Daniel had informed her they were taking a ship to England…

The dense forest had finally dissolved and they rode into a bustling port city. Although Christine had been compliant for most of their journey, she had resisted physically when Daniel told her they were leaving the country.

What little hope she had that Erik would find her was dashed and she knew that she could not allow Daniel to put her on that boat. She dragged her feet and pulled against him with all of her weight, all the while kicking and screaming. Afraid that she might start attracting the attention of the people around them, he yanked her behind the cover of a few large crates that lined the dock. Before she knew what he was doing, a blinding pain shot through her head, making her eyes feel like they would burst from their sockets.

Now she had awakened to find herself sitting on a cold floor, chained to a bed in a small room on a ship bound for England, with a man whose intentions she knew nothing about.

The enormity of her situation caught up with her and she started to weep silently. How would Erik find her now? She wrestled with the fear of not knowing whether or not he had survived the collapse of the roof. Surely after three days he could have caught up with them. But if he was that far behind, how would he ever know that she was being taken far away from France to a country she had never been to before.

The knowledge that she might not see Erik again plunged her into despair. Overwhelmed, she let her tears fall freely, no longer caring whether she woke Daniel up. It seemed to her that tragedy followed her around, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce and destroy any contentment at the first sign of happiness.

First it was her father, whose death had plunged her into a depression only the Angel of Music could heal. Next was Raoul, her lifelong childhood friend and confidante. Even though her love for him never equaled what she felt for Erik, he had always been there for her in her time of need and she found herself missing his comforting presence. She wondered guiltily if Erik hadn't reappeared in her life if Raoul would still be alive. But she stopped those thoughts as soon as they formed. Regret would get her no where. She'd had no control over Daniel's actions. Erik's involvement was just ill-conceived timing.

Finally there was Erik, whose loss was perhaps the worst of all to bear. Her sorrow had been great the first time she thought him dead. But it in no way compared to the torment she felt now, not knowing his fate. She felt as though a piece of her had died along with him. She shuddered from sobs and remorse as she contemplated the fact that she and Erik had at last expressed their feelings about one another openly, and she had been ready to explore those feelings. She had felt sure enough about them that she could have willingly surrendered herself to him that night of the dinner if it hadn't been for his resistance.

Another wave of grief crushed her as she thought that now there wouldn't be a chance to start a new life with him at her side. Like Raoul, she never had the opportunity to say goodbye. Even more, she had not been able to tell him she loved him. He left this life thinking there was no hope, his greatest dream which was to have Christine as his wife, unrealized.

A muffled groan jolted her from her thoughts as Daniel turned over and wiped his mouth. He pushed himself into a sitting position and ran his hand over his messy hair as he looked down on Christine.

"I see that shut you up," he said pointing to the manacle. "Teach you to cause a scene like that again."

She returned his gaze, glaring up at him from the floor with contempt.

"This will never work," she assured him. "You cannot keep me shackled here all day without someone noticing. I will scream so loudly the whole ship will coming running and then you'll be ruined!"

His retribution was swift as he leapt off the bed and smacked her cheek with his hand. Grabbing her forcefully by the shoulders he smiled as he whispered, "Scream all you want dearie. The captain and his crew have been informed that you are suffering from a rather high fever due to falling through thin ice while on a holiday in France. Naturally you are prone to certain hallucinations and they are to ignore anything out of the ordinary. They have been instructed to leave us alone until I call for them."

Deflated but refusing to let him see her cry, she cowered away from him.

"Why?" she asked in a small voice. "Why the charade? Why take me to England? What could you possibly gain from having me around? What do you plan to do with me once we've arrived?" She fired her questions at him rapidly, but he just sat there with a smug smile on his face.

"I know of a gent in Liverpool that takes pretty young things such as yourself and sells 'em into slavery. I gotta get my money outta ya somehow."

The color drained from her Christine's face but Daniel continued on, enjoying the reactions he was getting from her. He could not help but twist the proverbial knife.

"Don't look at me like you don't believe me! There's a big market for this sorta thing, especially for men wanting a little variety in the bedroom."

He bellowed with deep laughter as Christine's eyes closed and she swayed. He made no effort to help her as she crumpled over on the floor.

"Just as well," he said wiping the tears from his eyes. "I didn't feel like feeding ya now anyway."

XXXXXXXX

The next four days were more of the same. Christine remained shackled to the bed, only being released when absolutely necessary. She relished those moments when she could stand up straight and stretch her legs.

True to his word, no one ever came down to inspect the room or check with Daniel to see if there was anything he needed. Her meals were brought to her. Although she found herself envious of Daniel whenn he went above to retrieve them, she was grateful for the few minutes alone.

She tried her hardest not to sink into self pity, but the utter hopelessness of her situation made it almost impossible. She would dwell on what would happen to her if Daniel was telling the truth, that he intended to sell her like an animal to satisfy some wealthy man's lust for flesh. She worried so much that soon she lost her appetite.

After two days of not touching the food that Daniel placed in front of her, he lost it.

"Eat, God damn it!" he roared as he kicked the tin plate closer to her. "Or so help me I'll shove it right down your miserable throat!"

When the ship finally docked in Liverpool Christine was weak from lack of nourishment and full of trepidation. Daniel took hold of Christine in a vice like grip and led her down the gangplank.

A black brougham loomed ominously before them, pulled over to the side of the road where it was out of the way of traffic. The sight of it was like a black cloud and it stuck fear into her heart.

Daniel wasted no time as he guided her over to it. He placed a hand on the small of her back, giving the outward appearance that he was a loving, doting husband when in reality it was to assure Christine that she would have no chance of escape.

She gave no resistance as he led her to the brougham. She swallowed the dread she felt as he opened the door and ushered her inside. He quickly jumped in after her, sliding in the seat next to her to block the exit. Overcome with repulsion by his closeness, all she could focus on was trying to put as much distance between them on the small seat as she could. In doing so, she failed to notice a small barge had pulled into port behind the _Josephine_ and that a man in a mask was slowly leading two horses down the ramp.

XXXXXXXX

Because the barge was lighter than an ocean liner, it was able to make the distance in a shorter amount of time. For this, Erik was exceedingly grateful as it docked in the port of Liverpool a mere half hour behind the giant vessel.

The timing couldn't have been better. The boy had been right when he said the conditions were less than favorable. There was barely enough room for him to move between the large crates stored in the cargo hold. Because he was traveling with two horses, the journey was almost unbearable, since he was stuck in the bay along with them.

Never being the type to stay idle for long, Erik soon grew restless and irritable, and he would be glad when he could set foot on dry land again. He didn't enjoy the feeling of helplessness he experienced while trapped on the boat, unable to do anything productive.

When they docked he felt that frustration grow deeper when he discovered all the passengers from the _Josephine_ had already disembarked. The familiar murderous rage settled in the pit of his stomach, urging him on.

Erik slowly unloaded the horses, grumbling to himself. He would have the unsavory task of asking the residents who lived near the port if they had seen any whereabouts of Christine or Daniel.

Black thoughts were churning in his mind as he led the two horses down the ramp. He was so caught up in his vengeance that he nearly missed a glimpse of Christine being shoved into a brougham. Daniel leaned out and slammed the door shut. Erik noticed a large crest with the letter 'B' in the middle. His fingers tightened on the reins as he watched it lumber away.

The sound of his footsteps echoed loudly behind him as he ran down the dock with the horses in tow. He saw a man crossing the street and quickly lunged forward, catching him by the shoulder. The man turned around in alarm.

"I beg your pardon!" the man said indignantly. He was tall and well dressed in a black suit with dusty brown hair and a moustache of the same color. His arrogance denoted an aristocrat. Surely he would know to whom the crest belonged.

"Forgive me Sir," Erik said apologetically. Knowing the man was agitated enough, he automatically slipped back to the etiquette that was beaten into him as a child. It would do no good to anger this man further, thereby eliminating his chances of finding the information that he so desperately needed. "Do you know whose insignia that is?" He indicated the coach as it drove off in the distance.

Staring vulgarly at the mask, the man could not tear his gaze away. Then suddenly, as if remembering his good breeding he met Erik squarely in the eyes, his lips curling into a sneer.

"Charles Braithwaite," he replied as a look of distaste crossed his features. "He owns the burlesque house in the red light district."

A small knot of fear began to stir in Erik's stomach. "Can you tell me where I can find him?"

Against his better judgment the aristocrat chose to ignore why a man in a mask would be searching for a person of such questionable character. Giving him directions he hastily retreated, eager to distance himself from the stranger.

With new purpose, Erik secured the Arabian horse to the back of Cesar's saddle. He jumped on and grabbed Cesar's reins, pointing both horses in the direction of his love…and his prey.

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**A/N: **God, Daniel's a prick...I love it! Muah ha ha! Don't worry, I won't wait as long this time to let you know how it turns out!! ~J


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Hi ya'll. I received some very beautiful and touching reviews for the last chapter and just wanted to take a moment to thank the people that left them. You know who you are. It brings a tear to my eye and a mile wide smile to my face to read all the wonderfull and nice things everyone has to say. The encouragement is what keeps my fingers on the keyboard, especially when I'm not certain how a particular chapter turns out. I always strive to improve and keep things interesting. Thanks to all of you who continue to let me know how I'm doing!

*Hugs*

Now, enough stalling...

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**Chapter 14 – The Ties That Bind**

It seemed like an eternity before the brougham lurched to a stop in front of a tall unassuming building with a brick façade. Christine sat looking out the window, craning her neck to see the details of the dismal edifice. All too soon Daniel twisted the latch and thrust the door open, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her off the seat behind him.

During the ride, night had settled in and with it a dense fog. The air was dank and musty with a smell that could only be described as the effects of so many living in such close quarters to one another.

As soon as they had stepped out of the carriage, the front door of the building swung open. Daniel hustled them inside and as he did so, it became apparent to Christine that they were more or less expected. A blast of warm air greeted them as they walked through the entryway into a very comfortable sitting room.

A fire crackled in the hearth, illuminating the small area. The room itself was inviting with its walnut colored hardwood floor and opulent Louis XIV furniture. Several candles glowed from table tops and shelves. The window hangings and tapestries were done in a rich crimson with gold edges and cords. There was a stairway with a polished wood railing leading up to the second floor, which disappeared from view halfway up. Next to the staircase a red curtain, much like that curtain that graced the stage of the opera separated the sitting room from the rest of the house.

Although she had become accustomed to fine furnishings because of Erik's exquisite tastes and his choices in the décor of the house on the lake, she was not accustomed to such an obvious display of wealth. She could tell that the man who resided within these walls had a penchant for the overstated and liked to flaunt his affluence. It seemed to her that this room was almost more for show than anything else.

In contrast, the servant who opened the door for them stood out starkly from the luxurious settings in her plain black dress and starched white apron. She kept her eyes lowered to the floor as she brushed past them and walked toward the curtain.

A few moments later a man appeared, striding into the room from behind the curtain, a trail of smoke snaking behind him. He was dressed in an expensive gray suit with a black and gray cravat tucked against his brilliant white dress shirt. It was held in place by a tiny pearl pin. A gold watch nestled in the pocket of his waist coat. Finishing his ensemble were shiny leather shoes and crisp white spats with black buttons. He held a cigar in his right hand, which was adorned with a gaudy gold ring and a gray bowler cap with a black band in the other. He had shiny jet black hair which he kept short and neatly combed. The candlelight complemented his even skin tone, making it seem unnaturally tan for the time of year. He had a thick black mustache that was well trimmed and curled slightly at each end. His dark brown eyes seemed to twinkle as he turned them on Christine.

He thoughtfully chewed on his cigar as he looked her over. Slowly he began to circle around her, moving his gaze up from her toes, lingering on her breasts, and finally up to her eyes. Christine became uncomfortable and began to shift nervously under his scrutiny. He reminded her of a turkey vulture, waiting for the right moment to sink his teeth in. All the while, the cigar in his mouth shifted from side to side, its smoke dancing in the air between them.

Daniel cleared his throat anxiously, hoping to draw attention back to the business deal at hand. He drew a harsh gaze from the man as he finished his circle and stopped before Christine, his arms folded over his chest.

"Well?" Daniel prompted impatiently. "What do you think?"

"Your manners are abominable Daniel," he said. Taking the cigar from his mouth he leaned forward and grasped Christine's hand in his own and brought it to his lips. Kissing it lightly he said "Forgive him, my dear. My name is Charles Braithwaite. And yours?"

"Christine." Her reply was barely audible.

Charles chuckled softly. "So shy. You're going to have to overcome that rather quickly, I'm afraid my dear. Tell me, have you any experience performing in front of an audience?"

If Christine hadn't been so terrified she might have found humor in his question. Instead, she glanced at the ground and focused on her feet.

Charles turned back to Daniel. "She seems impressionable and subservient enough. At any rate, she's better than some of the other waifs you've brought me in the past."

He began to circle her once more, this time looking her over like he would cattle at an auction block. No part of her body escaped his examination.

"Good posture…small, petite frame…tiny waist…" he muttered. I think she will do nic-" He stopped abruptly, snatching her left hand. "What is this?" he demanded, waving her hand at Daniel. "She's married! What if her husband comes looking for her? You bloody half-witted fool of a man!"

"Relax." Daniel said calmly with a smug smile on his face. "I've already taken care of that problem." He winked at Christine. "Haven't I luv?"

She blanched and tried to remove her hand from Charles's grip.

"So you satisfied?" Daniel asked him. "Can I have my money now?"

Charles released Christine's hand and turned to look at him. Daniel soon became unnerved by his silence and began to shuffle about. It seemed to Christine that Charles enjoyed baiting Daniel.

After a long moment he finally spoke.

"Here's the deal, Daniel. Christine will stay the night with me, so that I may see if she has what I'm looking for. You may sleep in the carriage house if you so wish. If I am pleased, you may collect your money in the morning. If I'm not, she is yours to do with as you please."

Daniel's mouth fell open but Charles interrupted what he was about to say.

"Be here at ten sharp tomorrow morning for your answer." He waved his hand in a dismal. "You may go."

He grabbed Christine gently by the elbow and led her up the stairs, leaving Daniel in the sitting room.

Daniel fumed, but he knew that if he hoped to get any money from the deal, he would have to play by Charles's rules. For now. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket and ventured back out into the cold.

XXXXXXXX

Christine was full of dread as she climbed the stairs behind Charles. She had no idea where she was or what to expect. All she had was the brief bit of knowledge that Daniel had shared with her on the boat; that he planned on selling her to a wealthy man who would use her to satisfy his perverted needs.

As if sensing her thoughts, Charles stopped at the landing. He leaned in close to her and whispered, "You must try to get over that meekness of yours, Christine. The men don't like a girl who hides in the shadows. They like vivacious young women who titillate their senses. You work for me now. And I don't tolerate insubordination."

He took hold of her elbow again and led her down the hall to a door at the very end. When he stopped to turn the knob, she dared to ask her question.

"W-what do you expect of me?" She gulped. "W-hat is-is it that I'm supposed to do?"

He chuckled as he swung the door to the room open and spread his arms wide in a grand gesture.

"Do you not know where you are? This is England's finest burlesque house. Men from all over the country flock to have the most beautiful and lively women dance and entertain them."

The color drained from her face. Feeling queasy she stepped into the room. He followed behind her and turned up the gas lamp. Six beds lined the walls with a small vanity table situated beside each of them. Six trunks sat on the floor at the foot of each bed and in the corner was a changing screen. Other than the sparse furnishings, the room was unremarkable. Worn quilts covered the beds, adding to the impoverished feeling. It was completely opposite to the room downstairs with its plush décor. Even her dressing room after it had been turned into storage was more welcoming than this.

"This is where you will sleep," Charles said, breaking Christine's concentration. "And in this trunk you will find a negligee. I will be back for you later tonight, and I expect you to be wearing it." The twinkle that she had seen earlier was gone from his eyes, replaced with a hardness that she dared not question.

He stared at her a few moments more before he walked out of the room and shut the door. The sound echoed loudly in the empty room. She looked at it with disbelief. The sorrow she felt made her numb inside. How on Earth had it come to this? Overwhelmed, she sat on the bed and put her head in her hands. Her tears spurted forth, unrelenting. On the boat she had thought she could cry no more, but it seemed like things were just getting worse for her. Briefly she considered committing suicide. Death was better than whatever was in store for her here. Despair settled heavily on her shoulders when she thought once again about Erik. She concluded that life was not worth living if she couldn't be with him.

Standing up, she gazed around the room seeking anything to aid her in her new decision. She walked to the foot of her bed and opened the trunk. The black negligee was folded neatly inside, but there was nothing else. Disgusted, she rose and dusted off her hands. Desperate, she ran to the vanity next to the bed and began to rifle through the drawer. Still finding nothing she went to each one of the other vanities and searched through them. She located a few love notes, a hair pin and some rouge. She was searching through the drawer of the last one when she found a letter opener. She reached inside and grabbed it.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

Christine dropped the letter opener and it clattered to the floor. She whipped around to see a woman with steely eyes and mousy brown hair piled in a high messy bun on the top of her head glaring at her with hands on her hips. Behind her, three other women filtered through the door, all trying to get a look at what was going on.

"I asked you a question. What were you doing going through my things?" the woman asked again, her voice on the verge of turning shrill.

"Relax Margo," said a pretty blonde behind her. "It's obvious that she's upset. I doubt that she did any harm." She pushed her way through the crowd and walked a few steps in front of the other girls. Christine instinctively backed up against the wall.

"My name is Sophie," she continued. "You must be the new girl Charlie was talking about. What is your name?" Her voice was sweet and made Christine relax a little. She looked from Sophie to the other girls who were still standing at the threshold. All of the women were scantily dressed, hardly wearing anything more than lingerie. A blush tinted her cheeks when she thought that this might be the attire she would have to get used to wearing. The black negligee surfaced in her mind.

"Christine," she said softly. Her tears threatened to begin anew, but Christine did her best to hold them back. She took a deep breath and blinked to get rid of the stinging feeling in her eyes.

"Don't let Margo frighten you. She's all talk." Sophie threw a casual look in Margo's direction. "And she's the only one out of all of us that actually wants to be here. So she thinks she rules the roost."

"This job pays a helluva lot better than working the streets. And none of you girls would be what you are today if I hadn't taken you under my wing. Charlie would have eaten you alive and spit out your bones." Margo snapped. The way she talked, Christine guessed that she had spent many a hard night on the very streets she referred to. She had a harshness to her look and wisdom in her voice that came from years of being on her own, dealing with the worst life had to offer. This was a woman who had seen an opportunity to better her life, and she never looked back.

"So...so does that mean that the rest of you are forced to be here?" Hope tinged her voice that maybe she wasn't alone, and these women might be helpful in comforting her and helping her adjust.

The two remaining women looked away, and each slowly made their way to their beds. Margo turned her nose up in a sneer and sat down at her own rummaged vanity table and started to remove her stage makeup. Keeping her gaze faceted on Sophie, Christine moved to her own trunk and took a seat upon the top of it.

Sophie's smile dimmed somewhat, a melancholy look creeping onto her face. "No," she said quietly. "Margo once worked the streets as a prostitute, and you've heard from her that she choose to come here. But Matilda," she tilted her head towards a young woman with ebony hair and a gaunt visage who sat on one of the beds across from Christine, "and Elisabeth," she pointed to a red headed girl with freckles that played across her cheeks, "as well as myself were brought here against our will."

Christine closed her eyes. She wasn't alone in her horror and pain. But now what?

"Why do you stay?" she asked.

Sophie shrugged and looked at Matilda and Elisabeth. Their expressions both mirrored hers. "Because," Sophie said simply. "We have no were else to go. Things here might not be optimal, but we have food to eat and a roof over our heads."

"B-but you're families!" Christine protested. "Surely they must be worried and looking for you?"

Elisabeth heaved a great sigh. "We have no families. Each of us comes from a questionable past. There is no one looking for us."

Christine sat very still, digesting the revelations. She couldn't help but think that she too, had no family to speak of. Daniel had murdered Raoul, her one tie to the world outside. He couldn't have possibly known about Erik. So as far as he knew, Christine was alone in the world too, with no one to miss or question her absence. The knife of heartache was only driven deeper by the fact that she _did_ have someone who cared, and she didn't know if he was coming for her, or dead in that church under a pile of rubble.

She started to cry again, burying her faces in her hands, the gesture only muffling the sound and not the pain that emanated from her wails. Sophie stepped forward and gently stroked her hair. "Shh...I know it's hard," she cajoled. She carefully pried Christine's hands away so that she could look into her eyes. "But you must listen very carefully. Charlie does not like disobedience. He may seem like a benevolent man now, but he won't hesitate to put you in your place if you cross him. We're nothing more than a meal ticket to him, a way to keep himself wealthy. As long as you do what he says and stay on his good side, he won't harm you. But disobey..." she pulled the strap of her brassiere aside to revel a puckered scar on her shoulder from where a burn had healed.

"And make sure you cover your bruises well," Matilda piped in. "The men downstairs complain when they can see them. They like their women delicate and pristine. Charlie doesn't like them to see how he keeps us in line. And if one of us receives such a complaint, he will make sure that the beating we will receive because of it is well out of sight."

Christine's mouth went dry. Suddenly light-headed she walked back over to the bed and laid down on her side, wrapping her arms in a protective embrace around herself. "Oh God. Oh my God," she mouthed. She shut her eyes tight, hoping that when she opened them she would be safe in her room under the opera house. "Oh Erik, please help me."

A shadow passed beneath the door.

"Five minutes, my shy one," Charles called from the hallway.

Sophie turned from the door and gave Christine a questioning look. Christine had sat straight up, a look a abject terror on her face.

"What is he talking about?" Sophie asked. "Were you supposed to be doing something?"

"H-he wanted me to put on that negligee," she stammered, pointing a shaky finger at the trunk.

"Than you'd better do it and quickly!" Margo cautioned. "He doesn't like to ask twice."

"She's right," Sophie said quietly. "Its better to do as your told and get it over with. It will all be over soon." She patted Christine's hair, remembering when she was forced to do the same thing.

She had barely emerged from behind the changing screen when Charles waltzed in. She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to retain some of her dignity. The negligee hardly covered all the places it should, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Two black strips of fabric, one around her bosom, and the other around her waist were the only concealing parts of the shift. The rest was sheer. She couldn't imagine any woman wearing this and not feeling vulnerable and uncomfortable.

Apparently though, Charles liked what he saw. A small smile tugged the corner of his mouth, and the twinkle in his eyes returned. He wet his lips as he beckoned for her to come closer. She came with dragging feet.

"Very nice," he purred. Once again his gaze started at her feet and slowly climbed to her face. She swallowed the lump in her throat when he ran his hands down both of her arms. He brought those awful wandering hands up her hips, tracing her curves as he brought them up in search of what he was looking for. When he grazed the bandage, she flinched.

Charles blinked, confused. He tilted his head down to get a closer look. When he saw her bandage his lips twisted in anger.

"DANIEL!" he growled.

Grabbing Christine fiercely by the wrist he yanked her out of the small room and down the stairs. She struggled to keep up with him, fearing that if she stumbled he would drag her down the entire flight. When they reached the bottom he threw her down on the settee and snatched the gold braided cord that would summon the maid.

"Go fetch Daniel from the carriage house!" he barked at her when she came running in, wringing her hands. She made a half attempted at a curtsey before she scurried off.

Charles ran a hand over his face and through his hair. He began to pace back and forth, occasionally taking his watch from his waistcoat to mark the time.

Eventually Daniel sauntered in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Hay was caught in his dirty hair and bits and pieces were stuck to his clothes.

Charles looked down his nose with disgust at him. "Oh I'm sorry," he said sarcastically. "Did I disturb you?"

Daniel looked blankly at him.

"Well I don't give a shit!" Charles shouted. He threw a hand out in the direction of Christine. "What in the hell did you do to her?!"

Daniel looked from Charles to Christine. _Fuck!_ Blinded momentarily by the prospect of easy money, he'd forgotten about the gunshot wound.

"W-well, you see..." Daniel searched for the right way to explain without giving too much away. "I really wasn't planning on having her with me at all...she-she isn't one of the girls I would normally bring you...a-a con went bad and-and...well...I did what was necessary..."

"GET OUT!" Charles screamed. He grabbed Christine by the arm and shoved her toward Daniel. "Take her and get your sorry ass out of here now! And don't think about coming back. Our business contract is terminated. I want no part in violence or murder, attempted or otherwise."

Daniel opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by an icy wind that hit them both in the face. The two men turned to see a black shadow with glowing yellow eyes standing in the doorway.

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**A/N: **Things are about to get messy... Please R&R! ~J


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:**_ "He was quoting the Bible, Revelations. 'Behold the Pale Horse...for the man that sat on him was Death...and Hell followed with him.'" - Johnny Ringo, Tombstone_

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Chapter 15 – Behold the Pale Horse

The two men stood paralyzed as Erik snarled at them from the doorway. The wind and snow whipped around him, making the edges of his cloak flap angrily at his sides. His gleaming eyes sparked as he flashed them on Charles and Daniel before the world around him narrowed and turned red as blood.

Charles was the first to recover. Still holding Christine by the elbow, he stepped in front of her before throwing Daniel an angry look full of questions. Daniel's face had gone white as a ghost's, draining of color the instant the door crashed open.

Erik slowly stepped inside. Gnashing his teeth and clenching his fists together he never took his steely eyes off Daniel. For one long agonizing moment the two men were locked in a battle of wills, staring eye to eye, one with vengeance and the other with fear. No one dared to breathe. Erik narrowed his eyes, pulling his lips back in a growl that revealed teeth that threatened to rip flesh from bone.

In an instant the battle was over. Daniel broke the challenge, turning and running behind the velvet red curtain into the room beyond. Charles let go of Christine, twirling around to watch as Daniel fled the room.

"Who the devil is that?!" he called after him, not really expecting an answer. For him it was more of a way to dispel the nervous tension that permeated the room. He turned back to the stranger, giving him the most artificial smile, the kind that only exposed half of his teeth and never reached his eyes. Perhaps he could persuade the man to calm down.

Erik's eyes leveled on him with pure hatred causing Charles to gulp and take a step back. Then again, maybe there was no reasoning with him. And the fury he bestowed on Charles gave him the eerie feeling that he was not about to escape his wrath. In those first frightening moments it became clear to him that Daniel was not the only target of his revenge.

Christine stirred behind him and he realized her intent too late as a glass oil lamp came crashing down over his head. Pain coursed through his head as his knees buckled and he fell to the floor that was now littered with broken shards of glass and oil that was steadily seeping into the carpet.

With Charles out of the way, at least for a moment, Erik could concentrate on Daniel. He unsheathed a small dagger that he had been concealing in his boot and rushed toward the curtain.

"Tie him up!" he barked at Christine as he ran past her.

He moved the curtain aside slightly and peered in before cautiously slipping through it. The light in the room beyond had been doused, save for a couple gas lamps that flickered on the adjacent wall.

He quickly surveyed his surroundings. To his right was a small stage, the footlights long since extinguished. A black grand piano sat in a dark corner across from a sea of tables and chairs, each with a small candle in a fluted decorative glass perched on top. A bar with a staggering array of liquor lined the back wall.

Erik shuddered to think what atrocities his Christine was subjected to in this room. A bullet whizzed past and burrowed itself into the wall by his shoulder, bringing him back to the moment at hand. He quickly crouched down, trying to get a bearing on Daniel's location.

The back of a chair splintered as two more bullets followed. Keeping low to the ground he ran along the wall to the bar. He dove behind it just in time to miss the next one. The sound of a glass bottle shattering above him was enough to make him realize how narrowly he'd avoided it.

Cursing to himself he looked around to see if he could find anything to use to his advantage. All he had was his dagger and the Punjab Lasso. He was too far out of range to use the rope, and no match for Daniel's pistol. Still crouching, he slid the dagger back into the sheath in his boot and grabbed a bottle of scotch from the counter of the bar. Pulling the cork out with his teeth he inserted a bar rag saturated with alcohol into the neck of the bottle.

Peeking over the edge of the counter he chanced Daniel's aim by rising up and knocking the glass cover off one of the gas lamps. It didn't take long for Daniel to answer the challenge. This time the bullet struck the mirror behind the bar, raining its pieces over Erik as he ducked out of its way.

"That's five!" Erik yelled back. He stood up, this time noticing where Daniel had taken refuge behind the grand piano. He ran the top of the bottle across the flame of the gas lamp, turning it so that the fire spread evenly on the rag. "You'd better make that last shot count!" he snorted as he chucked the bottle toward the piano.

Instantly flames shot out, greedily following the trail of liquor made by the demolished bottle. The fire licked hungrily at the piano and floor surrounding Daniel.

However, he was unfazed as he taunted back at Erik. "Nice try, asshole! But you'll have to do better than that!"

Annoyed, Erik once again looked around for any other impromptu objects that could be used as weapons. This time his eyes settled on an old black powder horn. It had probably been knocked off its decorative perch on the wall when Daniel shot the mirror. A smile crept slowly on his face. He pulled off the stopper, elated that there was actually gun powder in the horn. He ascertained it had to be at least one hundred years old, probably some family heirloom from a past war. The smile that had been tugging at his features turned into a full faced grin when he noted there was an adequate amount of condensation inside to make it extremely volatile.

Refraining from returning an equally offensive expletive of superiority, he stood up long enough to heave the horn at Daniel before quickly ducking back behind the counter to wait, full of self satisfaction.

Shards of glass and splintered wood followed the blaring groan as the piano exploded. Not wasting any time, Erik leapt over the counter and walked to the spot where the piano had been. All that remained were a few scattered piles of burning wood, some with curly wisps of wire sticking out from them, the smudged brass pedals and a few keys which were strewn about. His boots crunched on the broken glass as he approached.

He found Daniel on his hands and knees, recovering from the shock of the explosion. He appeared to be battered and disoriented, but that didn't stop him from reaching across the floor for the revolver that had been knocked from his hand by the blast. Erik swiftly brought his foot up and placed a hard kick to Daniel's stomach. The force of the attack caused him to fall flat on his stomach with a moan as Erik swooped down and grabbed the gun. Placing it securely in a pocket beneath his cloak, he delivered another severe kick to Daniel's ribs.

Daniel scrambled to get out of the way. He seized a piano leg that seemed to be wholly intact and swung it hard at Erik's knees. Erik landed on the ground with a thud. But he was too overcome with fury to notice the throbbing in his leg or the glass that cut into his hands as he pushed himself up. He stormed over to where Daniel was struggling to get up and grabbed him by a fistful of hair. Turning on his heel with Daniel in tow, he slammed his face down twice on the edge of the stage. It occurred to him that he could have used either the dagger or his lasso at anytime to dispatch him, but he found it infinitely more pleasurable to beat him to a bloody pulp with his bare hands.

On the way down a third time Daniel managed to pivot at the last moment and brought his hand up to Erik's face in an attempt to hold him off. In doing so, he dislodged the mask. Out of an instinct born from many years of rejection, Erik's hands loosened their grip and he stepped back to distance himself from Daniel's horrified and disgusted stare.

"It's a good thing I took care of the Vicomte when I did. He would turn over in his grave if he knew his sweet innocent fiancé threw him over for a corpse!" Daniel taunted, spiting the blood from his mouth. He wiped his lips and face with his sleeve while he glowered at Erik to see if he'd garnered a reaction.

That was all it took for Erik to renew his fury and forget about his humiliation. Quick as lightning, he landed a punch on Daniel's cheek. There was a sickening crack as the bone in his face shattered from impact. Daniel spun around once and promptly hit the floor. Picking up a piece of broken piano wire from the heap of wood he pushed Daniel face first on the floor with the heel of his boot. Straddling him, he brought the wire around his neck and pulled with such anger that Daniel was forced backward until his back arched. The wire began to cut into his throat. Sputtering and coughing he clawed desperately with stubby fingers as he tried unsuccessfully to loosen it.

"You…" Erik whispered with frightening calm in his ear. "You are not fit to be fodder for the worms. I'll see you in Hell." He gave a savage jerk, spilling Daniel's life's blood as the wire sliced cleaning through his skin. Erik released his hold and let him fall to the ground with a thump.

Brushing his hands matter-of-factly he grabbed the mask and stomped over the burning debris of what was once a beautiful instrument and pushed roughly through the curtain.

Christine jumped up as he walked in.

"Erik! What happened in there? I heard a crash and - and…"

Ignoring her, he kept his eyes fixated on the spot where Charles lay with his hands tied behind his back. Christine had taken a sash from one of the curtains and bound his arms. He was grateful that he had not yet regained consciousness, for he would have been able to pull out of the bindings quite easily. Still, he had to give her credit for trying, he thought with a wry smile.

He took the revolver out of his pocket and placed it on the table next to where Christine stood. As he turned back to her his previous fears were realized. Charles stood, blood trailing down the side of his face. A crazed look had replaced the fear and confusion in his eyes. He held Christine in front of him, pulling the same sash tightly around Christine's neck.

Erik put a hand out in front of him in a fruitless attempt to dissuade the man.

"Step away from the gun," Charles demanded, threatening his intent by constricting the sash even more. Christine gasped for air.

Erik backed a few paces away from the table. "Let her go. She has nothing to do with this."

"Oh no," Charles laughed quietly. "She has everything to do with this. You two come in here, along with that despicable excuse for a con man, and usurp my business, my reputation, my lifestyle. Well, I'll tell you this…" he said, starting to speak more frantically, a hint of madness creeping into his voice. "I'm not about to let this whole distastful affair ruin me…so I'll just have to take care of the problem. Starting with her…"

He tightened his grip on the sash. Christine's continued to struggle for air before her eyes rolled back in her head and she went slack.

"_No!_" Erik growled, reaching beneath his cloak for the Punjab Lasso. Charles saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and dropped Christine. He swiftly moved over to Erik, catching his arms before he could bring the lasso from its hiding place. They struggled, locked hand to hand, their arms raised above them in a battle of strength.

Charles managed to gain the upper ground, spinning Erik and slamming him into the balustrade of the staircase.

Both men were so occupied by the scuffle that neither of them noticed the flames that had slowly started to consume the curtain that separated the sitting room from the stage area.

Erik stomped down hard on Charles's foot, throwing him off balance. He then brought his elbow up and connected roughly with his chin. While Charles staggered back toward where Christine lay motionless on the floor, Erik ran to the fireplace and grabbed a poker. He whipped around with it just as the gun went off.

His eyes grew big with surprise and shock, his mouth hanging open with words that died on his lips. Charles slumped over, a steady flow of blood beginning to soak through the fabric in the middle of his back. Christine was kneeling on the floor holding the pistol at arms length, gray smoke still snaking from the barrel.

She looked up at Erik with a horrified expression. Shaken by what she had just done she dropped the pistol and let it fall heavily to the ground.

In two long strides Erik was at her side. He dropped to his knees, enveloping her in his strong capable arms. He covered her face with soothing kisses as she clung to him, crying tears of relief and sheer joy.

"You're here," she whispered. Reaching up she gingerly touched his mouth to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

"Of course, my love." He gently brushed away the tears that slid down her cheeks, planting a kiss on each in their place. Holding her even more tightly he said, "I will always be there for you. But tell me, how did you…"

She smiled weakly before she answered, "I've learned a great deal about deceit."

"What?" Erik was flabbergasted. "You were pretending? Y-you weren't really… But I-I thought for sure that you were…"

Christine smiled, causing her cheeks to turn the slightest shade of red. She nodded and looked down. She heard Erik sigh before she was once more taken into his arms.

She pushed him back far enough that she could look deeply into his eyes. They held a look that she had never seen before. Not one of anger, or even the hungry desire that sometimes resided in them when he looked at her, but rather a look of warmth and contentment…almost…happiness. That was it. He was happy.

"Erik, I- "

The sound of popping wood interrupted her confession. The two turned to see that the crackling fire had now reached the mantle, engulfing it and the wall in flames. Christine let out a small cry.

"_Merde!_" he swore, pulling Christine to her feet.

Following behind Erik as they fled the inferno, Christine smiled sadly. She supposed that she could wait until a better time to reveal to Erik that she loved him.

"Is there anyone else here?" he demanded.

"No," she replied breathlessly. "All the other women ran downstairs when they heard the commotion. I told them to run and fetch the authorities."

He sighed. "Come on, we need to get out of here."

Even though she expected it, the frigid wave of cold air that hit her as they ran out the door took her breath away and instantly made her shiver. Erik felt the tremor go through her arm and turned back to her in concern. For the first time all night, he really looked at her. And look at her he did. A burning all of its own flashed briefly through his amber eyes, before he quickly hid it behind a calmer demeanor. Still it was enough to take the chill from her bones. She had the vague feeling that if he hadn't swallowed it so quickly, she might have burst into flames herself.

Doing his best to retain his self control, Erik unfastened his cloak and settled it over her. Keeping his hands where they rested on her shoulders, he leaned in close bringing his cheek to hers. In an instant she was swept into his arms. She could feel the warmth that emanated from his body and she relished it. He quickly bounded down the steps and hurried to the alley where he had the horses tethered.

Originally he had intended to place Christine on the brown Arabian, but he found he could not bring himself to let go of her. So instead he set her on Cesar's saddle and climbed on behind her. He slid his arms around her waist and gathered the reins with one hand. Coaxing both horses out of the alley, he kicked his heels and the two rode off into the dark, stormy night.

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**A/N: **I had so much fun writing this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it and that I lived up to your expectations. ~J Please R&R


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay in updating, for some reason I was unable to post.

Things have finally started to calm down, although I must say that I will miss writing all the suspenseful, thrilling scenes. This chapter is mainly fluff. Hope you like it. ~J

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**Chapter 16 – In your arms**

It was almost dawn when Erik and Christine fled from the burning destruction of Charles's bordello. By the time they reached the harbor, the sky was already stained a hazy red from the blaze and the smoke that drifted up into the air. The confusion and commotion was so great that no one noticed the two of them as they galloped by.

Erik brought Cesar to a halt just short of the dock. He swung his leg over and dismounted, twirling around to help Christine off. He was eager to put a considerable amount of distance between them and England. The sooner he could get her on the boat, the more he would relax. He reached up and slid his hands beneath the cloak. Grabbing her firmly but gently, he helped her climb down. The cloak remained parted ever so slightly as his hands lingered at her sides. Wrapping it tightly around herself, Christine blushed.

"Forgive me, my dear." He removed his hands from her waist with a guilty look. "But I cannot help being curious as to what you are wearing." He cocked his head slightly to the side to iterate his point.

"I do not want you to see what I'm wearing!" Christine snapped back. She stepped away from him. "It is entirely inappropriate. _He_ made me wear it."

Erik's shoulders stiffened. Through narrowed eyes he asked, "_He?_" He grabbed her chin gently, forcing her to look at him. "What else did he force upon you?"

He didn't want to hear it, but felt compelled to ask. All he could think about was how he was glad the man was already dead. Otherwise he would have tortured him first. Slowly and painfully.

"Nothing."

Relief washed over him. "Then he didn't…"

"No. He had become intensely angry at Daniel over my injury, and the commotion broke out before he could do anything else." She averted her eyes while she spoke. Now she knew how Erik felt every time she scrutinized him. It was an uncomfortable feeling and she would have to make sure she didn't subject him to it in the future.

She was abruptly pulled into Erik's embrace. Before she could gather her wits about her to respond, he was pulling her and the horses down the dock toward the boat. In a moment of desperation she scrambled to plant her feet. Erik whipped around in dismay when he felt the resistance in her arm.

"What are you doing? We must leave this place at once!"

"I understand the need to put miles ahead of us and I understand the need to hurry. But I'm not setting one foot on that boat until I have something decent to wear. I'm not going to spend days wandering around in this flimsy thing!" she said resolutely, a small pout resting on her lips.

Erik laughed outright. The sight of her tiny frame in an imposing posture only endeared her to him more. He released her hand to dig in his pocket and came up with a handful of gold coins. Selecting a few he held them out to her.

"This should be enough to purchase anything you need. Be sure to buy the necessary essentials as well."

Turning, they both fell into step together as they walked the streets of the harbor town. Shops had begun to open up and people started bustling by, taking care of the errands that their lives necessitated. They came to a stop in front of several store fronts that sold ladies apparel and accessories.

"I'm certain that you will find what you need here," Erik said coming to stand in front of her. "While you are shopping, I will go secure our passage home. Do not leave this place without me. I will return shortly."

She nodded.

With that he mounted Cesar and coaxed both horses into a trot back to the dock. He'd gone a few steps when he stopped and angled the horse toward her.

"Oh, and Christine?"

She looked back at him from the doorway.

"Do take care."

A short time later Christine had purchased two dresses, one that was a baby blue hue with bell sleeves bordered by white lace around the edges and the neckline, the other a creamy beige with olive green cording and a green and gold pattern. She bought a pair of shoes as well as a modest pink nightgown and all the other necessary things she would need to get her by until she returned to the house on the lake. She also selected a thick white cloak. Although she loved being surrounded by Erik's intoxicating scent of spices, she knew that she could not deprive him of his cloak forever. She had chosen to wear the beige dress and was having the rest of her things packaged when he walked in behind her.

"You look very nice," he said.

She turned from the counter to look at him. The light from the morning sun streamed through the window behind him, softly enveloping him in its glow. She had never before seen him in the daylight. It danced off his black hair and even though it dulled his glowing amber eyes, it almost seemed to add more mystery to him than the darkness did. He always seemed to meld in with the dark, becoming one with it. Out here in the light, he had no way to hide. She noticed even more how tall he was in respect to her, his straight posture, and the alluring way his jacket clung to his narrow waist. She felt her heart start to pound a steady rhythm just looking at him.

He came up beside her and plucked his cloak from where it rested on her arm. It made a _whoosing_ sound as he twirled it around and settled it on his shoulders. He then helped Christine into hers. He gathered her packages as she finished fastening the clasp on her cloak.

"Shall we, my dear?" he asked, sweeping his free arm toward the door.

She nodded and offered him a quick smile. Threading her arm through his they hurried to the waiting boat.

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Christine let out a gasp of delight when Erik opened the door to the state room. The accommodations were a hundred times better than dreary room she was forced to stay in during her trip to England.

The room itself was bigger. Gone was the ugly gray paint that had adorned everything and in its place the walls were bathed in a pleasant butter cream color. It did well to complement the cherry wood furniture. The bed was the centerpiece of the room, with a beautiful maroon and blue floral pattern on the coverlet. The headboard was short, its emblems etched with gold paint. A matching nightstand and dressing table were placed on either side. There was a quaint bathing chamber off the entrance of the room, and an armoire of the same design sat next to the door. All of it was placed on an ornamental maroon rug with gold tassels.

"It's exquisite!" she exclaimed. She walked into the room, gazing at the ceiling. Erik was touched by her laughter as he watched her spread her arms and turn in a circle. And then just as quickly, he watched her excitement deflate and she turned on him with questioning eyes.

"Where will you be sleeping Erik?"

"I have acquired the room next door. I-"

Fear. Desperation. Both emotions were quite visible as she clutched at his sleeve.

"No! Erik, you cannot…I don't…" she stammered.

He calmly pried her fingers from around the fabric of his sleeve and placed both her hands on his chest, covering them with his own. He chose his next words with tenderness and care.

"It is inappropriate that I stay in the same room with you. This is not the house on the lake Christine. People will most assuredly talk if I did, and right now I think it best to keep a low profile."

Large tears pooled in her brown eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She made no effort to brush them away. She looked down at her feet. He was right, of course. It was not proper for a man to share a room with an unmarried woman. Deep down, she knew and was even grateful for his concern about her honor.

But at the moment, she chose to be hurt.

"Please don't cry my dear," he said, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. "I shall be right next door should you need anything."

She sniffed and nodded.

"What I think you need most right now is rest," he continued. "I can't imagine you have gotten much of that these past few days." Neither had he. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had slept for more than a few minutes. He had been so focused and determined on finding Christine, that he had not allowed sleep to be a priority. Even on that damnable barge the quarters were too cramped for him to adequately relax. Not that he would have been able to anyway.

He steered her toward the bed, and patiently waited as she climbed beneath the coverlet. Within minutes, she was asleep.

Erik lingered, mulling over everything that had occurred in the last week. There was a time when he thought the events he had caused at the opera house would have torn Christine apart. It was for her well-being that he sent her away. Never did he imagine just what she would be subjected to after she left. It seemed to him that her life had been steeped in tragedy and although the death of her father had severely affected her, causing her to withdraw from most everything she held dear, he was immensely proud of the way she learned to deal with life's blows. He felt a savage need to protect her, and he would die before allowing any harm to come to her again.

Feeling the ache of fatigue in his own body, he silently retreated to his own room.

XXXXXXXX

Christine woke up with a start. The room was pitch black around her, not even moonlight trickled in from the port window. She sat up, gasping for air, her chest heaving from anxiety. How long had she slept? She hadn't anticipated how exhausted she was.

Her eyes flew to the shadows, scanning the darkness for anything sinister. Nothing was there, only the outline of the wardrobe in the distance.

She chastised herself for sleeping so long. Because of it she had no way of knowing where the lamps were, the matches to light them with, or what side Erik's room was located on. Erik…why had he let her sleep so late? She understood the necessity for maintaining separate state rooms, but couldn't have he at least come in and lit the lamps so she wouldn't wake up alone in the dark?

She pushed down the covers and tentatively slid off the bed. Running her hands over the nightstand beside her as if she were blind, she searched for a lamp, a candle…anything that would aid her in dispelling the darkness. Her wandering fingertips grazed the edge of something metal and instantly her hands were over it, trying to figure out what she found. As they brushed against the glass flute she let out an audible sigh of relief. A few more minutes of searching around the table revealed matches tucked away in a drawer. With hurried, shaky movements she struck one of the matches and lit the lamp.

The light from the flickering lantern barely managed to drive away the oppressive darkness that covered the room. Christine tried to swallow the lump that rose in her throat when she thought how small and lonely the room felt without the bright light from the sun glowing through the port window. The silence and Erik's absence was a breeding ground for her thoughts to revert back to the traumatic situations of the past few days.

She sat back down on the bed, trying to calm the panic that was creeping into her mind. She never did like the dark...

A glance at the clock on the nightstand revealed that it was two o'clock in the morning. She had slept a while, more than twelve hours. She hesitated, deliberating only a moment before she grabbed the lantern from the table and hurried out of her room.

The low flames from the gas lamps in the hallway didn't do much to pierce the gloom and desolation either. The corridor stretched long in front of her, not a soul in sight. There were no windows, only a trail of lamps lining the walls all the way down.

Spanning the area around her quickly she was able to tell that her room was the last in the corridor. Only one other room was next to hers, meaning that she didn't have to amble around in the dark to find Erik. She wouldn't have been able to bring herself to knock on doors in the middle of the night to find him, so she was immensely relieved that she wouldn't have to return to her dismal room alone to wait for daylight.

Quietly she tiptoed across the hall and put her ear to Erik's door. She was greeted with silence. Taking a deep breath she eased it open slightly. It creaked on its hinges as she inched it open just enough to squeeze through. She stopped, listening in the dark for any sign of movement. When she was certain there was none, she slowly pushed the door closed.

She tried to keep the lantern at a low level as she turned and surveyed the room in search of Erik. The room was identical to hers, right down to the same pattern on the carpet and coverlet. The soft light from the flame illuminated the bed, where she found Erik spread out face down on top of the covers. He had stripped off his mask and nothing else. Even his boots were still on his feet. She frowned at the new evidence of how exhausted he was.

The light from her lantern started to dance as her hand shook. She was here now, no going back. What exactly had she planned on doing once she walked in? In truth, she really didn't know. She hadn't expected Erik to be sleeping. Silly as it sounded, she had never really seen him sleep before. He was always up before her, and retired long after she had gone to bed.

She padded silently over to the edge of the bed. Her breathing grew more ragged the closer she got. She knew she was disobeying a direct order from him, but she was willing to risk his anger. Just being in the same room with him eased her anxiety.

Setting the lantern on the bedside table, Christine walked around to the foot of the bed and carefully coaxed a blanket out from beneath his feet. She unfolded in and settled it down over him. She took comfort in the knowledge that she was caring for him, like he had done so many times for her in the past. Once she had seen to it that he was adequately covered with the blanket, she round the side of the bed once more and looked down on his prone form. Never had she been given an opportunity to gaze at him without his defenses in place. A smile crossed her lips and she took in his features, noting that he wore a look of peace and contentment. She had to resist the urge to reach out and brush the hair from his forehead.

Before she could think twice about what she was doing, she sat down next to him and swung her feet up on the coverlet. Propping herself up on her elbow she watched his chest rise and fall evenly with his breathing.

She woke sometime later. She had no idea how long she'd slept this time, but the room around her was still enveloped in darkness. Erik lay still beside her. The lantern that she'd placed on the table had long since gone out, so she assumed she must have been asleep for a while.

_Wonderful,_ she thought. She would now have to retrace her own steps back to her room without the aid of light, or risk being caught when Erik awakened. She chose to stumble back to her room. There couldn't be but a few hours before daylight brightened the sky. Her stolen moments with him would warm her thoughts and keep her company while she braved the rest of the night in the darkness of her own bed.

Taking care not to move too much, she crept off the bed. Using the sliver of light from beneath the door as an anchor point, she started to carefully make her way across the room. She was nearly there when a hand fell upon her shoulder.

Her breath caught in her throat. For one painstakingly long moment the world ceased to exist. As he stepped behind her, she felt his fingers lightly on her skin as he traced the length of her arms with his hands. Her senses reeled from the unexpected contact. His familiar scent of soap and spices made every nerve in her body fire in response. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to imagine what would happen next.

"Erik, I-" she tried to explain.

"Shhh..." he whispered in her ear.

Christine thought she would faint from the blood pounding in her ears. He gently turned her so that she was facing him and then took her by the hand. Her heart thundered but she didn't resist as he led her back toward the bed.

He sat down and leaned his back against the headboard, never letting go of her hand. Gently but firmly, he pulled Christine to him. She followed unquestioningly. When she had settled into a sitting position next to him, he wrapped both arms around her and pulled her down so that she was half sitting, half laying on his chest. He tenderly smoothed her hair away from her face, resting his palm on the top of her head in a protective embrace.

It didn't take long before both of them were sleeping soundly.

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Please R&R! ~J


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **Hello everyone! Just a few quick notes from me.

First, for those of you that haven't heard, Andrew Lloyd Webber has created a sequel to Phantom call "Love Never Dies". I tried to post the link but it didn't work. It can be found on msnbc's website. Since we all participate in reading or writing some kind of sequel, I will let you be the judge.

Next, I'm gathering input on book sizes. I was at B&N over the weekend and this guy was griping about the size of a book he had been waiting for. It got me thinking if people would purchase a book that was in a format they didn't like, if it wasn't offered any other way. I have created a pole that can be found on my profile. I would appreciate any feedback, since it will be affecting any decisions I make in the future.

Finally, we are nearing the end of this journey. Don't worry, I have still got a few more chapters to go. But its time to start thinking about a new story. You have all grown accustomed to my writing style and you know which areas I excel at and those that are lacking. I welcome any suggestions for new plots. You can shoot ideas to me through my email. Feel free to email me even if you just want to chat about books or Phantom in general.

As always, thanks to all of you that have been reading. I do hope you will enjoy this next one. ~J

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Chapter 17 – Through the Darkest Hour

_Damn it_, Erik thought sullenly.

He placed a hand over his masked face and leaned his head against the window of the carriage. The sound of the horse's hooves on the cobblestone lulled him and for a minute he sat in silence, concentrating on the rhythm.

_Why did I say that? Why did I question her? I've gone and made a miserable mess out of things. _

Things had been going good up to that point. Better than expected, actually. But he feared that because of his insecurities and doubts, he had irrevocably damaged things between himself and Christine.

He sighed. She had insisted on riding on her own during the journey from Le Havre back to Paris. Once they returned to the house on the lake she went straight to her room and refused to come out. Erik had graciously offered to escort a confused Nadir and Darius home, hoping that it would give them both a moment to reflect, as well as give him the chance to relate the details of Christine's rescue to Nadir.

With the opera house only blocks away, he had little time left. He closed his eyes and drifted back to the events that had started four days earlier. Maybe there was still a chance to pick up the pieces.

XXXXXXXX

The sun was sparkling in the sky, its rays dancing and glittering on the rolling waves. The usual morning fog had burned off, leaving a cloudless sky of pristine blue. Although the temperature still hovered around freezing, some of the ships passengers could be found milling around the decks, just happy for the break in the weather.

Inside, Erik's room was brilliantly lit by a golden stream that filtered in from the port window. He stirred as it warmed the side of his face.

His face…

Erik's eyes flew open and he looked around frantically before the confusion faded and he remembered where he was.

He felt a slight pressure on his chest as Christine moaned and sleepily shifted her weight. With her situated as she was, it was impossible for him to reach his mask on the bedside table. Trapped though he may have been, he instead tried to focus on the woman that was sleeping comfortably on his lap.

How did she come to be here? The last thing he recalled the day before was throwing his mask on the table with an exhausted groan and collapsing on the bed fully dressed. He hadn't even bothered to remove his shoes. He tried harder to clear the cobwebs of sleep from his head.

She had come to him… A small movement on the mattress beside him had awakened him and he'd focused just in time to see Christine's shadowy form tiptoe stealthily toward the door. He was suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to have her close. Not wanting her to leave, he had placed a hand on her shoulder to stay her movement.

He smiled wryly as he imagined the look that must have crossed her face when she realized she'd been caught. Her trepidation was palpable as he led her silently back to the bed and gathered her in his arms.

Now as the sun shone brightly through the window on Christine's peaceful form, he asked himself why he was driven to such brash actions. Hadn't he admonished her for wanting to stay in the same room as he? And didn't she provide the very same reasons for not wanting to be alone? It wasn't that he thought she wouldn't be safe or that she wasn't mentally stable to be on her own. It was his need to physically protect her. He knew that if she were safe in the barrier of his arms, then he wouldn't be out of his mind with worry about her.

But now what?

Christine stirred again and her eyelids fluttered open. Lazily she ground the sleep from her eyes. Erik calmly watched as the realization hit her.

"Erik!" She hastened into a sitting position. A rosy hue crested her cheeks.

Erik sat back with an expectant smile. Though just as guilty as she was, he was interesting in hearing what her explanation would be for stealing into his room in the middle of the night.

Christine scrambled less than gracefully off the bed and brushed at her skirts. She ran a hand through her hair in an attempt to smooth the stray pieces back into place.

Embarrassment etched itself clearly on her face. But there was something else there as well. She wouldn't return his gaze.

Erik swung his legs over the side and pushed himself off the bed. His muscles screamed in protest from not being moved the whole night. Ignoring the stiffness and pain in his lower back he stretched his hand out to Christine. To his surprise, she backed away.

"Forgive me Erik, but I have to go."

She didn't give him a chance to question her before she fled the room. He was left standing by the bed, his hand still outstretched. Confusion furrowed his brows. He let his arm fall listlessly back to his side and absently turned to look down at the bedside table. A surge of hatred and disgust rushed through him as he stared at his mask. He lunged for the lantern beside it with a growl and threw it across the room. It hit the far wall and shattered into pieces.

XXXXXXXX

Erik remained confined to his room for most of the day, refusing repeated requests from Christine to open the door. The sound of furniture being upturned brought her out of her own room only to find that he'd locked the door. She had not seen him in one of his black moods since they were reunited at the house on the lake.

After several more attempts were greeted with cold silence, she gave up and decided to spend her time exploring the ship. She had a lovely time conversing with the staff. They gave her a tour of the upper decks, the dining area and music hall, even the engine room where she was given a stern lesson that women and mechanics don't mix. She passed an hour on deck, watching the wake from the boat as it stretched behind them and faded into the distance.

The clouds had rolled in again, covering the sun with gossamer fingers. Dusk was rapidly approaching and with it the freezing temperatures returned. Christine shivered and wrapped her arms around herself to form a barrier of protection. Her breath came out in small puffs and hung in the air.

A low growl in her stomach signaled to her that it was time to eat something. She left her perch at the railing and wandered back into the warmth of the hallway. Hopeful that maybe Erik would be more receptive, she stopped by his door and knocked softly.

"Erik?" she called through the wood.

Still no answer. With a heavy heart, she turned around and went back upstairs.

On the way to the dining room she heard the faint sound of a piano coming through the walls. She stopped and listened more intently. It was a sad melody. Intrigued, she changed her course and meandered over to the music hall. The strain became louder as she neared the entrance.

Erik sat hunched over the keyboard, completely immersed in the composition. His eyes were shut, his fingers gliding effortlessly across the keys. No one else was in the room. No doubt he would not have allowed himself to become so engrossed if he knew he was not alone.

She quietly approached him, situating herself in the curve of the piano. Erik opened his eyes and he immediately removed his hands from the keys. The last note resonated across the empty hall.

"There you are," she said softly.

"What is it Christine?" he demanded. He started playing again. The music came out in harsh clipped tones.

'You're angry," she began.

Erik's head was bent to the side as he listened to the notes. When she spoke he merely turned his eyes toward her. They were cold and unfeeling behind the mask.

Christine lapsed into silence. Absently she wrung her hands. After several false starts she finally said, "T-this morning I-I was-"

"You can say it," he cut her off. "You were horrified to find yourself in bed with a repulsive monster!" He shot her a scathing glance. "You didn't even have the decency to look at me. As long as I hide behind this mask, you can pretend that things between us are normal. But once I remove it you can't even stand to be in the same room as me!"

"_How dare you?_" she spat. "Y-you intolerable man! You presume to think that this is about your face?"

Had Christine been given more time to think, she would have formulated a response that was more conducive to Erik's guarded insecurities, but his abrupt anger and harsh words drove her past decorum and into a rage of her own. Had she more time, she would have remembered that it was Erik she was speaking to.

Erik stood up so fast that he knocked the piano bench over and sent it careening across the floor. They eyes that were once cold were now blazing as he stalked toward her. Christine was filled with fear and dread when he slowly advanced. How was it that she thought she wasn't afraid of him. She was terrified. It settled in the pit of her stomach as she backed away from him.

She knew that she'd gone too far. She also knew that silence would be her best course of action, but she was compelled to try to diffuse the situation.

Before she had a chance to speak, Erik's clamped his hands around her upper arms and pushed her roughly against the wall. He held her there firmly as he brought his face close to hers.

"Oh no?" he snarled. "Do tell me then Christine, what it is that you meant?"

His tone was deceiving, for she knew that even as he spoke in a calm voice, beneath the surface he was rapidly losing control.

"I-I"

"Tell me Christine!" He dug his fingers into the fabric of her sleeves.

"I love you!" she blurted. There, she had said it, although not in the context she had imagined revealing it to him. "It doesn't have anything to do with the way you look."

He loosened his grip slightly and narrowed his eyes.

"You don't love me," he said, his voice dripping with venom. "You love the idea of having someone whose always there to protect you. Without me you'd be completely alone and you can't stand the thought of that. Putting up with a demon is better than being reminded of the fact that you have no one else."

The echo from her hand smacking the leather of his mask reverberated throughout the room. Although the force of her blow didn't hurt him physically on the outside, the pain penetrated deep within his chest.

Christine wrenched herself from his grasp. He made no attempt to stop her. The sound of her broken sobs filled him with remorse. She looked back at him from the doorway.

"You're right Erik," she said sadly through her tears. "How could I ever loved you? It's not your face that is corrupted, it's your heart."

She turned and ran down the hallway, her heels clicking on the hard floor. The sound of each step as she put distance between them stabbed him like a knife in the very heart she claimed he didn't have.

He stumbled weakly to his room and shut the door softly behind him. He put his hand over his chest in agony and slid down the length of the door.

XXXXXXXX

The carriage pulled to a stop about a block away from the Rue Scribe entrance. Night had fallen and brought with it a crispness to the air that made the surroundings seem quieter than they were. The only thing that could be heard were Erik's footsteps on the wet pavement.

He opened the gate and hurried down the corridor to the bank of the lake. He shivered as the cold air permeated his cloak. It may not have been the most inviting atmosphere inside, but he was anxious to return home.

He was greeted with the usual oppressive silence that he had become accustomed to the past few days. Christine was no where to be seen. He was tired of the tension between then. It had been two days since she had spoken to him. He felt that it was time to try to set things right.

Since Nadir was feeling better and Erik had volunteered to take him and Darius home, Christine had chosen to return to her own recently vacated room. Erik could hardly blame her. Even if she hadn't been angry with him, she no longer required the constant care and vigilance that she did when he first brought her down after the boy's murder.

He crossed the room with leaden steps and softly knocked on her door. Several seconds passed by without an answer from inside.

"Christine," he called out. "We need to talk." He rapped again on the door with the back of his hand.

Nothing.

This was getting ridiculous. He loathed to invade her privacy, but she couldn't avoid him forever. He turned the knob and was surprised to find it unlocked. But when he opened the door and walked inside he was immediately surrounded by darkness. Instantly his eyes adjusted to the dark and he could see at once that the room was empty. He fumbled around the top of the bureau until he found a match. Striking it, he confirmed what he had feared.

Christine was gone.

XXXXXXXX

Christine remained in her room after Erik left until the crushing silence drove her out. She tried to sit in the living room. When that didn't work, she got up and ran her fingers idly over the keys of the pipe organ. Each time she touched one she was overcome with the memory of Erik sitting at the piano in the music hall and the sting of his words.

She blinked rapidly as tears welled up in her eyes. She hadn't meant the things she had said to him. Did he? After their bitter exchange, would he still care about her? Would he ask her to leave?

The air seemed to thicken, and Christine found it difficult to breathe. She felt the sudden desire for fresh air. Knowing that Erik wouldn't return for a while she decided to go up to the roof and think about ways to convey to him how deeply sorry she was.

She was surprised to find that night had fallen. With it came the same familiar cold. She bundled her cloak around her frame. She wouldn't be able to remain out there for long, but the cold was better than the stifling silence.

She wandered slowly to the edge. A thousand lights from Paris winked in the distance. So many memories occurred on this rooftop. She had confided her secret to Raoul up here and had clung to him fiercely as he tried to comfort her. It was here that she betrayed Erik by agreeing to Raoul's pleas to take her away where she could live in peace.

The events of the past week threatened to shatter her emotional resolve. Too many things had happened that she hadn't had any time to process anything. One thing remained constant throughout it all and that was Erik. He was there to rescue her from certain death, to comfort her and help her heal both physically and emotionally. Thoughts of him had prevented her from sinking into a deep depression, staving off thoughts of suicide when she was kidnapped and help hostage by Daniel. As long as he was around she could move past the recent events and focus on the future.

What would happen now?

She urged herself not to cry again, but in the end it was like trying to hold back the tide and she crumpled to the frozen ground, overcome with despair.

"Please don't cry, my dear." Erik's soft voice reached her ears.

Startled, she jerked her head up and scrambled to her feet. Erik stood by the statue of Apollo. She wondered how long he'd been standing there.

"I was hoping that I would find you up here," he continued.

Christine was silent.

Erik took a few tentative steps toward her. When she didn't move to run away from him he confessed, "I thought you were gone. When I found your room was empty I thought that you had left for good." He placed both hands over his heart. "I'm so sorry Christine..."

"Oh no Erik! It is me who should be sorry!" She flung herself into his arms, holding him tightly around the waist as though she feared he would disappear forever. "I should have never said those awful things to you. Can you ever forgive me?"

He wrapped his arms around her and lightly kissed the top of her head. "It has already been done, my love. Can you forgive me for taking my doubts and fears out on you?"

She hugged him tightly before she stepped back to meet his eyes.

"It was never about you or your face Erik." She broke into tears. "It was me. I was embarrassed. I didn't know what to do, what to say." She looked up at him and he let go of her so she could wipe her eyes.

"I-I have never been so brazen...never found myself in that type of situation before," she continued. "It made me afraid...afraid because I liked it," she took a deep breath. "Afraid because it made me want more."

Erik felt lightheaded. It was as if someone had kicked him in the stomach and caused all the air to escape from his lungs.

"Does this mean you meant what you said when you told me you loved me?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes!" Her eyes sparkled like diamonds through her tears. "Oh yes, Erik! I love you so much!"

He swooped her into his arms and twirled her around in the air. The rooftop was filled with the sound of her laughter. He set her gently on her feet and for a long moment just stared into her eyes.

She bit at her lip and then reached up and removed his mask. Standing on her toes she placed a kiss on his lips. He placed a palm on each side of her face. He could get lost in her gaze. He was overcome with the incredible feeling that the eyes staring back at him were filled with love...love for him.

He leaned forward and tenderly claimed her lips. The kiss was tentative at first, born of a lifetime of hesitation. But Christine met him with love and passion, showing him that she accepted him for who he was. Her arms slid around his neck, bringing him lower so she could deepen their kiss. His lips parted slightly as he sought hers once more and she welcomed him by opening her mouth and allowing his tongue to seek hers. Erik's hands ran down the length of her arms until they found the small of her back, where he applied pressure until their bodies touched. Christine felt shock waves of electricity that made her fingers and toes tingle when she felt his hands roam over her back and their legs touch. She was sure that if he wasn't holding her so tightly, she would have fainted to the ground.

All to soon the kiss ended, leaving them both in awe and gasping for air. Christine shivered, though from the chilly night air or from pleasure he couldn't be sure.

He took both her hands in his and stared down at them. Slowly his golden orbs crept up to meet hers. They sparked like she had never seem before.

"You have, on this night, made me the happiest man in the world Christine. I have waited my whole life to hear those words and to feel like I do right now. And all this time spent waiting, I figured that would be enough, but it isn't."

Christine's mouth opened in protest but he silenced her with a quick kiss.

"I want more," he whispered. He didn't let go of her hands, but instead knelt down on one knee. "I want it all. Christine Daae, I have no ring to give you, but you would make my life complete if you agreed to be my wife. Will you marry me?"

She pulled her hand from his and covered her mouth. She sank to her knees and brushed some of Erik's hair from his forehead.

"My dear, sweet man," she cried. "You have no ring to give me because I already wear it. Yes, I will marry you! There isn't a woman on this Earth that is happier than I am at this very moment!"

Laughing and crying at the same time, Erik jumped to his feet, pulling Christine with him. He lifted her into the air once more and spun her around. Only this time he didn't let her down, choosing instead to keep her in his arms.

"I love you Christine," he said as he nuzzled her neck. She moaned in contentment.

"Take me home Erik."

_Home_, he sighed. How wonderful it was to hear that word come from her lips. He placed her on her feet and took her by the hand. Stopping only to retrieve the mask, he shoved it in his pocket and lead Christine down the stairs and back to the house on the lake.

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Not the end. Please R & R! ~J


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **Many, many apologies for not updating. It seems like life comes at you fast, or if you would prefer another analogy "when it rains, it pours". To make a long story short, mere days after my last post I was contending with the kids having head lice and a seasonal (thank God!) flu that hit the family, myself included. Needless to say at the end of the day I wasn't too inspired to write. But thankfully that is all behind me now and as you can see, I have been busy. This chapter is extra long to make up for it. :-) I made it into two parts because if I hadn't it would have been over 26 pages.

Without further interruptions, I give you:

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**Chapter 18 – Saying Goodbye to Old Ghosts: Part One**

For the first time that Erik could recall, laughter permeated the dismal gloom and bounced off the dank walls that surrounded the lake. And for the first time, he didn't care whether anyone heard or discovered them. Christine's excitement was infectious, a brilliant ray of sunshine that penetrated the sepulchral recesses and swept the shadows from his heart.

He found himself suddenly overcome with a giddiness that was usually reserved for a school boy. Imagine, the Angel of Darkness feeling the same rush of enthusiasm as a boy half his age who'd just stolen his first kiss.

While still calm and composed on the outside, he smiled inwardly to himself as he thought that finally he was able to enjoy some of the basic emotions that normal men had been blessed with, emotions they eagerly took for granted and never gave a second thought. Against instincts borne of a lifetime's habit of seclusion and repression, he gave into the urge and dropped his formal exterior to join in with Christine's merriment.

He stopped abruptly and pulled her into a shadowy alcove. Her giggling quickly became subdued and he heard her breath quicken at the unexpected change in their descent. The musky scent of spices tickled her senses as he drew closer to her. Using the length of his body, he silently guided her until her back met the wall. Placing each of his hands against the cold stone wall, he effectively ensnared Christine in the circle of his arms. She felt the warmth of his breath against the side of her neck and instinctively moved her head to one side with a sigh of anticipation.

Her nerve endings sizzled and sent waves of sensation up and down her legs, making them weak as his lips found the soft flesh of her neck. The glacial temperature of the wall did nothing to quell the fire that suddenly burned within her.

Erik continued to trail kisses along her collarbone to the other side of his neck. He brushed his lips gently over her ear and playfully flicked his tongue over the lobe before completely closing his mouth over it.

Christine sighed and her legs buckled beneath her, but Erik caught her as she slid down the wall and pressed her firmly against it again with his body. She clung to his shoulders and raised her chin in anticipation of his kiss upon her lips. The thrill of waiting for it made her breathless. The shadows of the alcove completely surrounded them so that she could not see him even though he was so close to her.

Erik let out a devilish laugh and abruptly pulled her away from the wall and led her back into the bluish light that always seemed to illuminate the bank of the lake.

He jumped in the boat and extended his hand to assist her. She took it and allowed him to help her sit down. He then turned around and picked up the long slender oar and pushed off from the bank. The muscles in his upper arms tightened with the power of his strokes and he steered the boat in the direction of the far shore. Christine smiled, grateful that the dark hid the blush that rested on her cheeks when she thought of those strong arms wrapped possessively around her.

Although she had struggled to understand her feelings for Erik in the past, she was confident of them now. It was the first time that either of them had been openly honest about how they felt. She had to admit it was as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she was sublimely happy with the knowledge that he felt the same way.

But it was also the first time that she had allowed herself to think of Erik more in the way of a lover and not just a teacher.

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't hear Erik call out to her. He called again softly and his hand swam into her vision. Confused, her gazed traveled from his hand up to his face. When she met his eyes, he smiled warmly, causing the golden hue to glitter in the darkness.

"Are you ready to go inside my dear? I trust that you would rather not sit in the boat all night as the temperature out here is quite frigid."

"On the contrary, I'm actually quite warm," she replied and Erik laughed outright.

She took his hand and allowed him to lead her out of the boat.

The warmth inside was a stark contrast to the bitter air that settled over the water. It felt heavy but instantly inviting. Christine breathed deeply, enjoying the faint scent of cedar that seemed to linger in the air.

At once Erik disappeared with a determined purpose to his gait.

Puzzled, Christine hesitated only a moment before she removed her cloak and took it to her room. She draped it over the back of the chair that was placed in front of her vanity and turned to look at her reflection in the mirror.

Even though she knew that Erik loved her for who she was, she could not help but feel a need to look her best. She felt that, like herself, he was seeing her through new eyes. She pinned a few strands of her hair back that had been blown out of place by the wind on the rooftop and smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress. Frowning, she pulled the corner of her mouth in as she examined the faint purple circles that still resided underneath her eyes. She dabbed at them tenderly with her finger before she sighed and concluded that the only thing to be done with them was to get a good night's rest.

She emerged just in time to see Erik enter the living room with a tray of tea. He smiled at her briefly before he set the tray on the table beside the chair.

"Sit," he commanded, pointing to the settee.

She nodded and took her place on the cushion. She expected him to sit down beside her, but instead he poured a cup of tea and handed it to her.

He sat down on the piano bench and gave her a knowing look before he swung around and began to play, enveloping the small room in music.

The combination of the warm heavy air, the hot tea, and Erik's soothing music was enough to make Christine forget all about the stress of the past few days. Grasping the tea cup in both hands she pulled her feet onto the settee and settled down lower. She could feel the muscles in her back and arms start to release their tension.

When Erik began to sing, she closed her eyes dreamily and let his voice wrap itself around her like a cocoon. Soon his voice began to fade until it was a faint murmur. It didn't take long before she was asleep.

XXXXXXXX

Christine awoke to find herself in her own bed. She wasn't sure how long she had been asleep. It was always hard to tell the time of day in the perpetual darkness. A lone oil lamp flickered on her bureau, giving off just enough light that she wouldn't wake up in total blackness.

She stretched in a contented fashion before she rose from the bed and put on the lavender robe that Erik had given her. It was then that she noticed a note that had been placed beside the lamp.

_My dearest Christine,_

_Please forgive me for not being there when you awaken. I had some rather pressing matters that I need to attend to now that our plans have changed. Feel free to roam about this house which will soon be yours as well, and also do not hesitate to take care of those things that need to be done in order for you to re-enter society. I regret that for obvious reasons it would be unwise if I accompanied you. But rest assured my love, after today it won't be long before I will walk beside you in the daylight. _

_All of my love,_

_E._

She smiled as she placed the letter back on top of the bureau.

Since Erik wasn't in the house, she felt more inclined to take things at a more leisurely pace. After a long soak in a hot bath she sauntered back into her room wearing nothing but her lavender robe. Opening her wardrobe she carefully selected a dress from the many that Erik had purchased for her back when he'd brought her down for musical instruction.

The wound on her side was healing well enough that she no longer needed the bandage. Excited that she wasn't confined to certain dresses that were large enough to cover her bindings, she chose a mahogany colored dress with gold panels that framed the sides of the bodice and trimmed the edge of her sleeves, which gathered with a splash of fabric that ended at the elbows.

She gathered her hair and pinned it back in a half bun at the top of her head, letting her unruly curls cascade down her back. Once she was finished she pulled on brown gloves and put on a matching hat, tying the gold ribbons under her chin.

Feeling that she appeared decent enough to conduct the necessary business, she grabbed a cloak, lit her lantern and prepared to make the journey back above ground.

She decided it was best to start at the opera house, so instead of taking the road that led to Rue Scribe, she chose the path that would lead her up five stories, back through the corridor and into her old dressing room.

The mirror slid back with its familiar ease and she stepped cautiously through it. Nothing appeared to have changed since she was last in her dressing room. The same sheets still covered the furniture, everything was still covered in dust. She wasn't sure if she had expected it to change. Obviously no one had thought to search the opera house or her dressing room when she had disappeared.

_Why would they?_ She thought to herself. _Everyone believed the 'Opera Ghost' to be dead. No one would have suspected Erik of stealing me away. Which will make my sudden presence at the opera house harder to explain…_

Instantly Christine regretted her decision to use the mirror as a way to get to the outside. She wasn't sure that Erik would approve of her telling anyone that he was indeed alive, let alone her fiancé. Perhaps she could hurry past the _Grande Escalier _and exit without anyone noticing her.

She opened her dressing room door a crack and peered warily into the hallway. As always, it was dark and deserted. She hurried down the unused corridor and was just passing by the foyer of the _corps de ballet_ when she heard her name.

"_Christine!_" Meg screeched.

She turned just in time to see a flash of black hair and white tulle as Meg hurtled down the corridor and flung herself into Christine's arms.

"You're alive!" she continued to squeal.

Taken aback slightly by Meg's exuberance, Christine hugged her tightly before gently pushing her away so that she was able to look at her.

"Shh, Meg…" she whispered. She took her by the hand and led her to one of the empty practice rooms.

No sooner had she shut the door then Meg started again.

"_Oh my God_ _Christine, _I thought you were dead! We all did. When they found the Vicomte, there was a huge search. But the _gendarmes_ never found any clues to your disappearance. After a few days everyone just assumed that you had met with the same fate."

She threw her arms around Christine again and squeezed her before she grabbed her shoulder and shook her slightly.

"Where have you been?!"

Christine extracted herself from Meg's iron grip and smiled. Her insistent chatter was making it hard to get a word in edge wise.

"Quiet Meg. If you calm down I will tell you."

"Well you'd better!" Meg wailed. "Everyone at the opera house has been in a state of mourning for you. Mother and I were going to hold a candlelight vigil in memoriam. I'm so happy that you're safe!"

Christine gave her a pointed look.

"I'm sorry," Meg said sheepishly. "I will be quiet."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Christine began. "Everything is so convoluted and mixed together that my head aches when I think about it." She put a hand to her head for good measure.

Meg stared at her, transfixed.

Christine took a deep breath. "Do you remember the Angel of Music?"

"Don't call him that Christine." she snapped. "He wasn't an angel, but a devil who lured you down into the depths and threatened the lives of everyone you held dear in order to keep you down there." Her voice grew more vengeful as her anger increased. "Is he the reason that you vanished and the Vicomte was found brutally murdered? Did he come back to claim you and finish the job he started all those months ago?"

"Meg!" Christine scolded forcefully.

Meg folded her arms under her bosom expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Erik had nothing to do with all that, at least not initially. In fact, he was instrumental to my rescue and safe return."

Meg's features softened slightly, but not completely.

Christine sighed again and sat down. She undid the ribbons of her hat and slid it off her head, then ran her fingers through her hair. The pins did their best to try to hold the hair neatly in place, but despite their efforts, her actions caused some pieces of hair to slip out of the bun.

"It all happened so fast, within hours it seemed." She repressed the urge to cry. "First I get this horrible letter that Erik is dead and it's my responsibility to bury him. Then Raoul refuses to let me go, claiming that if I did, he would break off our engagement. I went anyway."

The hat slid from her hands as she stood up and walked to the window. Meg followed her with her gaze, enraptured.

"Only…only when I got there, Erik was still alive." She paused and turned back to look at Meg. "I was so angry. Furious that he lied to me, upset that he resurrected feelings I had for him that I'd tried to forget. So I went back to Raoul."

Meg's mouth hung open. Christine smiled weakly at her and said, "You haven't even heard the worst of it."

Meg nodded and licked her lips.

"I was determined to put everything behind me. I didn't want to think about what I was going to do now that Erik was back in my life. I just wanted to sleep and think about it all later. But things only got worse. I walked in to find three men holding Raoul at gun point. When they saw me, I was quickly taken hostage and used as bait to blackmail Raoul."

Christine stumbled in her speech, her voice cracking.

"When he saw the opportunity, Raoul charged the leader of the men. But in his attempt to save me, he was stabbed. Although it was heartbreaking, I knew there was nothing I could do for him and if I had any chance for survival, I needed to run away from them fast. I heard the sound of gunfire behind me. It didn't even occur to me until I got outside that I'd been shot."

"You were shot?" Meg gasped.

She nodded and unconsciously placed her hand on her side.

"After that I don't remember anything. I woke up back in Erik's house. He nursed me back to health and helped me recall and work through the frightening details. All would have been well, but those men were afraid that I would lead the police to them, since I had been a witness. Erik wanted to put an end to the threats once and for all, so I agreed to meet them at an abandoned church while Erik hid in the shadows. Things were going well until Daniel…that was that evil man's name…caused the roof to cave in on top of Erik."

Christine wrapped her arms around herself.

"Oh Meg, you can't understand how that felt. Once I thought he was dead and it nearly killed me. But to see something like that… I wasn't sure if he'd survived and I didn't have a chance to check because Daniel grabbed me. He stole Erik's horse and took me to England."

Meg's complexion paled and she sat down slowly. She couldn't imagine how it felt for Christine to go through so much heartache and sorrow. She considered it was a bad day when she got yelled at for missing a step or showing up late to practice. Never in her sheltered life had she faced something as harrowing as Christine had. And from now on she would be sure not to take things for granted like she had in the past.

"Go on," she urged her.

"After that, I didn't care about my fate. My life meant nothing once I thought that I'd lost both Raoul and Erik. I didn't put up a fight when he tried to sell me to a despicable, slimy excuse for a man who wanted to use me in his burlesque house."

Meg's eyes nearly popped from her head. _Holy Virgin_, she thought. Christine was right. It did get worse. But since she was obviously standing before her, more or less unharmed, she knew that something must have happened to save Christine, and she was rooted to the spot with anticipation.

"Tell me Christine! How did you escape?"

A small smile crept onto Christine's face and her eyes became wistful.

"It was Erik. He'd survived the roof collapsing and had been on our trail. He finally caught up with us and surprised both the man and Daniel. I'm not sure what happened because Daniel ran to another room and Erik followed, but I know enough that Daniel died in the scuffle. Only when Erik returned, the other man was holding me captive with a sash tied around my neck and was threatening Erik with my life. I decided at that moment that it would be safer if I led him to believe that I was either dead or unconscious. It worked because Erik went after him and the two struggled brutally. He had Erik back into a corner when…when I…"

She put her face in her hands, trying to cover the fear and shame she felt. Meg stood up and went to comfort her.

"What is it? What did you do?" Meg coaxed her.

"I-I shot him!" Christine cried. "I killed him! I didn't think…couldn't think. All I knew was that Erik was in danger and I had the ability to help him, to stop this all." She looked at Meg woefully. "Oh God, what have I done?"

"You saved Erik's life." Meg replied solemnly. She felt odd calling him by his name. She had always referred to him as the Opera Ghost.

Christine could tell that she was visibly shaken by her story, but there was a sense of pride emanating from her as well. Meg embraced her and said, "God will forgive acts of self defense. You are not a cold blooded murderer Christine."

Eager to change the subject, Meg stood back and asked, "Now what?"

Christine stopped sniffling and giggled, reestablishing some of the old school girl camaraderie between them.

"I'm engaged!" she squealed, grabbing Meg's hands.

Meg's eyes widened, she could not believe what she was hearing. Surprised she asked incredulously, "Erik?"

Christine nodded emphatically.

The two jumped up and down in a moment of excitement before Meg became serious and looked at her inquisitively. "You really do love him, don't you Christine?"

"Yes!" she responded breathlessly, "with all my heart. Even when I made the decision to marry Raoul and left with him, I think a part of me knew that I belonged with Erik."

Meg shook her head slowly and smiled. "Well then, if you love each other so much then nothing should keep you apart. Since he has already proved how deeply he cares for you, I will regard him as a friend as well."

Before Christine could thank her for being so understanding, Meg took her by the arm and yanked her toward the door.

"Wait till mother hears this!"

XXXXXXXX

"Mother! Mother!"

Madame Giry groaned and looked up from her books as her daughter's shrill voice echoed down the hall. She shook her head. Sometimes Meg could be downright obnoxious.

Even though she was expecting it, she stood up and started to protest when Meg burst through the door, causing it to slam into the wall hard enough to rattle the glass in the window.

"Meg!"

"I'm sorry Mother," she apologized, out of breath, "but look who I found!" Meg dragged Christine through the door behind her.

"Merciful Heavens!" Madame Giry exclaimed. "Christine child, you're all right!" She forgot all about her anger at being disrupted and ran to gather Christine in her arms, holding her tight to her bosom like she would a small child.

After Christine, with the help of Meg of course, filled Madame Giry in on the highlights of what happened, sparing her the gruesome details, she asked her in a somber voice if she would help her.

"Why of course child. Whatever do you need?"

"You see Madame, even though both you and Meg understand that Erik is not the malevolent man he once was, I fear that others might not realize that and immediately suspect him given our past history."

The old box keeper nodded in agreement.

"Therefore, I need your help in concocting a story that will exonerate Erik from any suspicions whatsoever. I want us to start our life together on the right foot, without having to worry about being hunted down. He mentioned to me earlier that he would like to walk beside me in the daylight. I want that to be my gift to him. Can you help me?" she pleaded.

Madame Giry put her hands on Christine's cheeks and brought her face down so that she could lightly kiss her forehead. "For you my child, anything. And there isn't anything I wouldn't do to help the Oper-...I mean Erik," she corrected.

"Oh thank you, Mother Giry!"

The three women worked well into the afternoon crafting a story that would be submitted to the newspaper regarding her disappearance. In the end they decided it would be best to provide the details surrounding her abduction from the Chagny estate immediately following the Vicomte's murder, and changed her rescue by saying that Christine was able to attract attention in England and Daniel, who had dispatched his own men in order to keep all profits to himself, had quickly been apprehended. Unfortunately while awaiting trail in Liverpool, Daniel committed suicide in his jail cell.

To keep further suspicion from being linked back to Erik, Christine personally volunteered to meet with anyone who had questions to collaborate her story.

"What a wonderful idea!" Meg's eyes brightened and she started shaking her hand in an excited fashion to get Christine's attention. "We should hold a ball, right here at the opera house. That way everyone here can celebrate your return to us, and anyone else with questions can attend as well."

Madame Giry turned her eyes on Christine. "It can most certainly be arranged. What do you think Christine?"

Christine deliberated for a moment before she smiled mischievously.

"I think it sounds perfect! But we should make it a _masked_ ball. Then Erik would be more inclined to attend."

"Stupendous!" Meg cried out as she grabbed Christine once more by the hand. She yanked her into a standing position, giving her little time before she started toward the door.

"Mother," Meg called out behind her. "can you take care of the details? Christine and I have much to do in preparation!"

Madame Giry smiled and sighed as she listened to Meg's caterwauling followed by Christine's exasperated laughter as the door shut behind them with a savage bang.

XXXXXXXX

By the end of the day Christine was exhausted. Meg had dragged her to just about every shop surrounding the opera house to look at everything from flowers and dresses to baked goods.

Coming from such a simple background, Christine was hard pressed to buy anything that she could make just as well herself. But she did insist they visit the jewelers, where she spent the last of what savings she had tucked away from her career with the _Opera Populaire_ on a ring for Erik.

She chose a simple gold band, much like the one she wore on her left hand, but this one had a single diamond that had been inlaid in the center. Erik was never one to be ostentatious, and Christine thought the ring would both adhere to Erik's tastes while still making a statement. She also couldn't argue with herself that it would look exquisite on his long slender finger.

After assuring Meg that she would meet with her again within the next few days, Christine made her way back underground to the house on the lake. She was genuinely surprised to find everything was still dark. Erik had not yet returned home.

She lit the candles and lamps around the living room and then took the opportunity of his absence to hide the ring she purchased for him underneath the mattress of her bed.

Not knowing what else to do, she selected a book from the shelf and settled down on the settee to read and await his return.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope you liked it! More on the way. Happy weekend everyone. ~J


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'm so glad that you're all enjoying this story. I have had so much fun writing it. I have a good idea of where I want it to go from here, but I'm torn about the direction I want to take. I thought I would get the input of my loyal readers:

I have always tried to keep everyone as close to their original characters as I can. Keeping this story authentic is my main goal and in doing so I tend to do a lot of research. Now this story takes place in the latter half of the eighteenth century, where pre-marital affiliations were strongly frowned upon. That being said, I have mapped out the scene in two different ways and would like to know if you want to see Erik and Christine express their love in a moment of tenderness and passion before the wedding, or wait until their wedding night. Please review and tell me how you would like it to happen.

~J**

* * *

****Chapter 19 – Saying Goodbye to Old Ghosts: Part Two**

"I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

Nadir eased himself into the fireside chair carefully. Although the past two weeks had been kind in healing his bruises and cuts, he still wore a sling around his arm.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"I did it," Erik replied evenly, with only a slight tremor in his voice. He had yet to walk fully into Nadir's sitting room, choosing instead to remain in the doorway where he leaned against the frame.

Nadir sat forward in his chair. Erik's cryptic words could mean a number of different things. And if he knew Erik at all, he knew the man was full of contradicting surprises. Still, he could not help but feel anxious as he waited for Erik to continue.

Erik said nothing, content to stare out the window. Nadir assumed by his brusque and aloof demeanor that whatever Erik had to tell him was not good news. My God, the man had hardly been back in Paris a day and already he had managed to find more trouble. He tried his best to remain indifferent while his insides were screaming with protest.

"Oh Erik. What have you done now?" Nadir sighed.

Erik turned to look at him slowly.

"I asked her to be my wife," he replied tremulously.

Nadir immediately felt a pang of sorrow and sympathy for his friend.

"Erik…I'm so sorry," he began, rising out of his chair and stepping closer to Erik so that he could look him in the eye.

He folded his arms across his chest as he regarded him. It was also a defensive gesture, for he was suddenly overcome with an intense resentment toward Christine Daae. Although he couldn't necessarily agree with Erik's methods, it had become clear to him that Erik really did love her. He had proven that when he risked his own life to save her.

He could also imagine how Erik would be confused into thinking that she returned those feelings. He himself had witnesses them together, had seen the way their body language spoke volumes while they remained silent. He felt sure that Christine loved Erik just as much as he loved her. But then why her refusal? Was it too soon after the Vicomte's death? Nadir thought that this would have been a very acceptable explanation, but not one that Erik would understand. In Erik's mind, his feelings were too palpable, he would not listen to reason.

"No _Daroga_," Erik said, bringing Nadir out of his inner thoughts. "She said _yes_!"

Nadir blinked rapidly for a brief moment, utterly confused. Overcoming his stupor, he tried to think of why Erik would be so forlorn about such good news. In an attempt to lighten his mood Nadir laughed heartily and gave Erik a few congratulatory slaps on the back.

"Erik, this is fabulous news! Why on Earth are you acting like that?"

"Because _Daroga, _I-"

"For God's sake, Erik come in and sit down! I cannot carry on a decent conversation with you when you look like you're about to run away at any moment."

Erik looked at Nadir briefly before he silently walked into the sitting room and took a seat on the settee. Nadir lingered in the doorway watching Erik, noting that he sat on the very edge of the couch.

He detoured, choosing instead to walk to his liquor cabinet, where he poured a single glass of scotch. Without saying a word he brought the glass to Erik and watched as he greedily gulped down the brown liquid.

Erik took a few minutes to collect his thoughts before he said, "It isn't that I'm not happy about this _Daroga_. I'm ecstatic."

"You have a funny way of showing it." Nadir couldn't help himself.

"Yes well, I assume that you are aware that I'm not as adept at expressing feelings of happiness," he replied caustically.

Nadir did his best to smother his laughter. "Go on."

Erik straightened, donning a business like manner.

"I simply do not know how to tell Christine that when she marries me, I will have no surname to give her. As you well know _Daroga_, I was never given one. To this day I still don't know what my family name was. It will undoubtedly lead to questions once Christine learns that my mother despised me so much that she wouldn't even tell me the name of my father. Truthfully it surprises me that I was even given a first name. I suppose it was more agreeable than calling me 'it'. I am prepared to divulge some aspects of my past to her, but I would rather not convey the heartache that comes with discussing my mother. It's better if she doesn't know."

"How are you planning on getting around that?" Nadir asked.

Erik looked at him as he rose from the settee. He walked around behind it and placed his hands on the back, leaning on his arms.

"I have an idea, but I cannot do it alone."

Nadir got the message right away. He had never expected Erik to come right out and ask for help. Either he demanded it, or hinted around. This time was no different.

"So you want me to create one for you?"

A perfect solution. By asking Nadir would appear the ever helpful friend and Erik would get what he wanted without having to grovel, thereby demeaning himself in his own eyes. Next would come the gracious but pointless refusal.

"I don't want to trouble _Daroga_, but I fear there is no other way."

Close enough. Inwardly Nadir laughed, he was getting good at this game.

"There is a certain amount of paperwork and face-to-face contact required that naturally, I am unable to do myself," Erik continued, unaware of Nadir's thoughts.

"Of course. Do you have a particular name in mind?"

Instantly, Erik took on the air as the person in charge, delegating his wishes to Nadir.

"I have extreme faith in your abilities and I trust you implicitly. I am sure that you will choose the perfect moniker, one that is both credible and fitting. But be warned _Daroga_, if you give me the name of a fop, I will kill you."

Nadir bellowed with laughter, the sound bouncing off the walls and surrounding them, until Erik couldn't help but laugh too.

Wiping his eyes Nadir asked, "Is there anything else I can do for you while I'm at it?"

"Actually there is, "Erik replied in a more somber tone. He was all business again as he removed a stack of francs from inside his cloak and set it on the table next to the chair where Nadir had fallen into during his fit of laughter.

"My Hell, man!" Nadir exclaimed, instantly serious. "What's all that for?"

Erik smiled warmly. "I am, as you know, quite fond of my establishment at the opera house. But I no longer have just myself to worry about. I hold the keys to Christine's happiness as well. Therefore, as a wedding gift I would like to purchase a house on the outskirts of Paris. Some place removed enough that I can wander about without the worry of neighbors, but close enough that Christine can feel connected with the outside. I have a certain location in mind," he continued as he found a piece of paper and scribbled down an address, "and there is more than enough money there to cover its purchase as well as some furnishings."

"I understand Erik. I will get started on these things right away."

"Excellent." Erik gathered himself and started walking to the door before he changed his mind. He turned to Nadir and extended his right hand. Nadir grasped it without hesitation. Shaking it firmly he said, "I appreciate all you do for me, old friend. I don't know how I would survive without you."

Nadir gently cuffed him on the shoulder.

"You wouldn't," he said playfully.

XXXXXXXX

Erik stepped out into the mid afternoon sun feeling confident that Nadir would indeed accomplish all that he needed him to do.

Although the temperatures around the city were still crispy, the massive storms of the last few weeks had finally receded, allowing the sun to come out. It shone high in the sky, making a feeble attempt to warm the earth. As a result, the rays made the snow glitter causing the surroundings to glow with an almost ethereal brightness.

Erik stood out like a sore thumb against the white background. But rather than allow himself to become self conscious, he was determined to adapt. After all, he had told Christine that he planned on re-entering society. He supposed that delaying would only make it more difficult.

With that in mind, he set off down the street. He had one more errand to run. One that required a certain delicacy better left to himself. He came to a stop outside the jewelers. Taking a deep breath for courage he pulled his fedora lower on his head and stepped inside.

It wasn't too busy. Only three other customers lingered around the display cases; an elderly couple and a young gentleman. As soon as the elderly woman set eyes on Erik, she bristled and nudged her husband. He looked up and smiled warmly until his wife shot him a look of pure venom. She threw her scarf arrogantly around her neck and walked out, making sure not to look at Erik or touch him as she brushed by. Her husband shrugged his shoulders sadly but said nothing as he followed her out.

The younger gentleman in the corner didn't seem to notice any of the commotion and was still intently looking at the cases, completely absorbed. It almost made Erik smile when he thought that the gentleman was probably in the same state of euphoria that he was in, where nothing could dampen his mood. Not even uppity old women.

He spent the next half hour scouring through the selections. There were so many different styles and he could imagine almost all of them on Christine's finger. She would most certainly object if she knew what he was doing. She wore the wedding band without protest, and refused to take it off. It was such a sweet and loving gesture, but in Erik's mind it was also tainted with memories of an earlier time. Though not altogether bad, he wanted her to have something new to supplement it, something that symbolized their fresh start. So he looked until the reflections of all the diamonds gave him a headache.

He finally decided on a ring with a round diamond in the center of a gold setting, with baguettes trailing down the band and a circle of smaller round diamonds surrounding the center gem. He chose that particular ring because not only was it a beautiful display of craftsmanship, but because Christine's simple gold band would complement it rather well. He knew better than to assume she would surrender it once she seen the new one. And there was nothing wrong with her having two. If he asked, he was certain the jeweler would solder them together for him after the wedding.

He walked out with the little black box in his pocket, his hand clasped tightly around it, afraid that if he were to let go, it would disappear and he would wake up from a dream.

By the time his feet stepped onto the grounds of the opera house, the sun was setting in the sky. Gone were the blinding reflections off the snow and in its place the fading blue sky was highlighted by red and orange streaks of clouds that followed the sun to the horizon.

He wondered if Christine had had enough time to accomplish everything that she set out to do today. He had no doubt that she would try to find little Meg Giry, and if they got chatting like hens in a hen house, there was no telling if Christine was even home yet. He chuckled to himself at the thought. It would be good for her to have a friend to talk to.

On the other hand, he hoped that Christine wouldn't be too long. He had one more thing he wanted to do before he thought they were ready to take their vows. And Christine was instrumental in the plot of his new scheme.

XXXXXXXX

He found Christine curled up on the settee reading a book when he entered the living room. She had built a small fire that was trying desperately to stay lit.

As soon as she seen him she leaped off the settee and flew into his arms.

"You're home!" she said.

Erik stiffened momentarily before wrapping his arms around her small frame. He still wasn't used to such unabashed attention. It would take time to adjust, but if this was the greeting he would receive every time he walked in the door, he imagined it wouldn't be long.

He disentangled himself from her eager grasp.

"Good evening Christine. Did you have a nice day?"

He led her back to the settee as he spoke, pausing to pick up the discarded book so that she could sit down. He walked over and pushed it back into the empty slot on the bookshelf before turning back to her expectantly.

"More or less," she began. "I got everything accomplished that I needed to, so all in all it was a productive day. And I saw Meg Giry."

Erik smiled. He knew it.

"Her and Mother Giry helped create a reasonable story to present to the public about my ordeal," she went on. "I think you will be pleased at the outcome."

"You are a smart woman Christine," he said quietly. "I trust that whatever explanation the three of you came up with will be more than adequate."

"Of course, it will take a few days to get everything cleared up and in place so to speak."

Erik nodded. So it was with him as well.

Something about the tone of her voice put him on edge though. It wasn't just that she was sharing the tidbits of her day with him, although he liked that. It was that her words were hurried, almost as if there was something she wasn't telling him.

"T-there is one more thing Erik," she said hesitantly. "Please don't be angry with me."

"Usually when one says that to me, it means that I will be angry."

Christine looked at the floor. Immediately Erik felt his heart lurch. He walked over to the settee and knelt down beside her.

"But I am sure that it is not as bad as you think it is," he said reassuringly, rubbing her back.

Christine's eyes brightened once again and she smiled. Taking a deep breath she blurted, "I-its just that the Opera Company is holding a ball in my honor. I would like to go."

"I don't see any harm in that," he interrupted.

"No…I mean yes," she stuttered. She paused, trying to formulate the right words. "What I mean to say is that I know you have no problem letting me go…it was partly my idea. Well, mine and Meg's." She turned her big pleading eyes toward him. "But none of it matters if you are not there to share it with me."

"You know that I am always watching you from a distance."

She took another deep breath.

"I've arranged for it to be a masked ball, so that you would feel more inclined to attend? Would you? Oh, please Erik?"

Now it was Erik who was out of breath. He could understand why she would hesitate to ask such a favor from him. It was clear that she was expecting him to disagree, even to be angry at her making arrangements without his knowledge. But this sudden independence only made him love her more and he found he couldn't be upset with her for it.

What could it hurt anyway? He had already attended one masked ball and no one thought anything of it until his jealous stupidity forced him to reveal himself. Perhaps if he wore a less flamboyant costume he could go unnoticed.

"It seems I can deny you nothing," he sighed. Opening his arms wide he invited Christine into his embrace.

"Oh thank you, thank you!" she squealed, wrapping her arms around him once more.

As he held her, he marveled at how easy it was to please her. It made him feel good inside to see how happy she was over something so simple. He vowed to always strive to keep her happy.

Eventually he let go of her and stood up.

"What did you do today?" she asked politely.

"Nothing as exciting as the day you've had," he said evasively.

Before she could ask him anymore questions, he disappeared into his bedroom and returned with a black strip of silk fabric. Christine looked at him curiously, but said nothing.

"I have someplace that I would like to take you," he said, changing the subject, "one final thing that you and I must do before we can be wed."

Instantly Christine's good natured attitude faded.

"Don't look so concerned my love," he chuckled as he came up behind her. He kissed the back of her neck before he covered her eyes with the blindfold and gently tied in it a knot at the back of her head. He was careful not to get any of her luxurious brown curls caught in the knot. "There is nothing to worry about, nothing is wrong."

She visibly relaxed.

"Is the blindfold really necessary Erik?"

"Oh yes, my dear," he whispered in her ear. "It is."

It was a full minute that he left Christine in the darkness while he went to collect her cloak, a full minute in which she was left to her own thoughts to ponder what Erik had in mind.

When he returned he gently took her by the hand and helped her stand up. He placed the cloak on her shoulders and took great care in fastening the clasp that rested near her collarbone. Once they were both dressed for the weather, he took her by the hand again and led her out of the house.

Christine could smell the damp cold air that lingered by the lake. She knew that Erik was helping her step into the boat. She could hear the _swish_ of the oars as they propelled them forward. She was even pleased with herself for knowing that he chose to take her above ground through the Rue Scribe entrance, the hard pavement gave it away.

But she was not expecting to be lifted into a carriage. She was not expecting Erik to take her anywhere that wasn't the opera house. She sat in the warmth of the small carriage, next to Erik who never let go of her hand, and contemplated just what it was that was preventing them from saying their vows. She squeezed his hand for reassurance, for she was very nervous from the anticipation.

That carriage seemed to drive on forever and the entire time it did, Erik did not speak. When it finally came to a stop Christine felt her heart quicken. She heard the carriage door open and a moment later Erik took her by the hand and gently lifted her down the steps so that she wouldn't fall.

When her feet touched the ground she noted that she had been placed in the snow. It crunched around them as they walked. If she'd had any hope of finding out what they were doing, it was quickly dashed as they continued to walk. Erik continued to remain by her side, guiding her by placing once hand on her back and holding on to her hand with the other. They continued on in this fashion until Christine could stand it no longer.

"I can't take much more of this Erik," she laughed. "Are we almost there?"

"Shh, a few more steps."

Abruptly he let go of her. Christine searched around in the blackness for his hand, or anything she could hold on to.

"Erik?"

Presently she felt him move behind her as he slowly loosened the blindfold. He removed it ever so slowly from her eyes, adding to her suspense. He could feel Christine holding her breath.

When the blindfold slid off her eyes, Christine was at once confused. She was in a cemetery. She gazed around wondering why in Heaven Erik would choose to bring her to a cemetery. She turned to look at him questioningly.

"I don't understand Erik. Why would you bring me here?" she asked.

"I think you understand," he said quietly, turning her around once more. He indicated the headstone that was in front of them with a sweep of his hand.

She followed his hand until her gaze rested on the inscription that adorned the headstone.

_In Loving Memory_

_of_

_Vicomte Raoul de Chagny_

_1860-1882_

Christine gasped and her hands flew to her mouth as she sank to her knees. She looked up at Erik, tears brimming in her eyes. He knelt down beside her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"You once told me that you never had a chance to say goodbye," he whispered. "Perhaps now you can say the words to him that you couldn't that night."

She nodded slightly. Her face contorted with emotion as she gingerly fingered the engraving.

Erik squeezed her shoulder firmly and kissed her cheek.

"I will be over here waiting for you," he said indicating a tree that stood near the gate. With that he turned and left her to her thoughts.

Christine just stared at the headstone. After all that happened, it still didn't seem real. But the proof was right in front of her. Two tears slid down her cheeks but she didn't notice, just as she didn't notice the snow that was starting to seep into her clothing.

"Oh, Raoul," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry! You were so young and vibrant, so full of life. You didn't deserve this."

She sat for a moment with her head in her hands, crying for all the Raoul would never experience.

"You saved my life," she sniffed. "I will never forget it! I will never forget you, my dear friend. I hope you have found Papa. He will keep you company. Tell him, if you would, that I have found my Angel of Music and he will keep me safe from now on."

In a soft voice that was almost a whisper, she started singing an old Breton song that her father used to sing to them when they were children and would listen for hours to the stories he told. When she was finished she stood up and brushed the snow from her skirts.

"Goodbye Raoul."

She felt strangely at peace as she walked to where Erik was patiently waiting. Now she understood what he had meant. Today was a day where they had both put their pasts behind them.

Erik wordlessly embraced her, knowing it was best to keep quiet. She melded into his arms and they walked silently back to the carriage.

Now only the future lay ahead of them.

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**A/N: **As always, please read & review. Thank you for your continued support! ~J


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: **I hope that everyone had a nice Thanksgiving holiday. Thanks to all of those who reviewed! ~J

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**Chapter 20 – A Day in the Life**

Christine stretched languidly before she threw her covers aside and hopped out of bed. Reaching for her robe she mused over the events of the previous night.

After saying her final goodbyes to Raoul she felt oddly at peace with the world and her place in it. She no longer felt sad about choosing to move on with her life, nor did she feel any guilt in choosing to continue said life with Erik. Instead she felt content with the knowledge that although the world had wrought about many hardships, she had been able to overcome them and ironically things had turned out for the best.

She smiled, a mixture of sadness and utter disbelief.

After all, the events of the past few weeks brought her back to Erik, the one she loved with all her being. Without them, she would never have been able to admit her feelings for him. Rather she would still be wasting away inside the Chagny mansion, pining for a love that would never be.

She could never condone what had happened to Raoul. His death was so unfortunate and unnecessary, and she was deeply saddened by the loss of her good friend. But life had a funny way of working out.

Now after last night she was finally able to accept that. She felt free to be happy and enjoy all the wonderful things that Erik had to offer her. And she was determined to do so.

Breathing a sigh of contentment and relief, she gathered her hair back in a ribbon and splashed cool water on her face from the wash basin. Feeling refreshed, she made her way to the living room, hoping that she had risen early enough to surprise Erik with breakfast.

That was not to be the case. No sooner had she entered the living room then Erik appeared from the doorway carrying a tray of oatmeal and buttered toast. He continued in the direction of her room until he noticed her standing silently by the tall chair.

She shook her head in a bemused fashion, but the smile on her lips betrayed her mood.

"Do you ever sleep?"

Truthfully Christine expected the lowest pit in Hell to freeze over before the day came that she was up before he was.

"Very little, my dear. But I might be persuaded to stay in bed a while longer once you are occupying the space next to me," he said with a mischievous grin.

She blushed violently at his insinuation and looked down nervously at her entwined fingers. She could hear Erik's quip of satisfied laughter.

"Come then," he continued, moving on as though nothing had happened. "Once you have eaten we can get started on what needs to be done today."

He motioned for her to sit with a flick of his head as he bent over to set the tray down on the table. Christine just stood there, glued to the spot. Erik assumed she was regaining her composer and the thought that he'd addled her so completely made him smile.

"Yes, about that," she said matter-of-factly.

Erik looked up from the tray, surprised by her tone. Christine appeared to falter, momentarily losing the boldness she was trying to convey. She swallowed hard and stepped in front of the chair. He followed her trail, never taking his eyes off her.

The way that only his eyes moved and nothing else completely unnerved her. She sat down quickly in one motion and blurted, "Well, it's just that you have made all these plans," she rolled her eyes up so that she was looking at the ceiling, desperately trying to choose the right words, "and yet we haven't even set a date for our wedding. I assume it will be soon?"

Erik stared at her blankly for a moment before a warm smile spread across his lips. He was beginning to love the little independent streak that was slowly surfacing in Christine. She was no longer a shy naïve child who feared the dark and the unknown. Instead she had grown into a strong woman, fully capable of taking matters in to her own hands if he didn't.

There had been so much to do and to get settled that he wasn't sure how long it would take to get everything in order. He would have liked nothing else than to marry her on the spot, but he knew that the ceremony could not take place until Nadir had secured him a last name.

He came around the table and knelt at her feet, taking both her hands in his.

"I am waiting for a few more matters that I started the other day to be finished. I doubt they will take very long, but until that time I need you to be patient." Upon seeing the look in her eyes, he reconsidered. "Ideally I was hoping for next Saturday."

Christine's eyes widened as she yanked her hands from his grasp in surprise.

"Next Saturday!" she exclaimed. "That soon? I have less time than I thought! I have many things I still need to do."

She stood up and attempted to hurry to her room but Erik's gentle hand stayed her.

"That may be," he said softly, pushing her back down into the chair. "But you will do nothing until you have eaten something."

XXXXXXXX

Christine grumbled to herself as she sorted through the garments and dresses in her wardrobe. Incensed that she couldn't find what she was looking for, she began throwing the clothes over her shoulder in an act of petulance.

"Oh, where is it?" she whined, stamping her foot in frustration.

She immersed her head and shoulders in the wardrobe once again in another attempt to find the item that eluded her.

"Whatever is it that you are looking for?" Erik inquired, looking around the small room and the clothes that had been haphazardly thrown about.

Christine pulled her head out in surprise, the static from the clothing making pieces of her hair stand out on end.

"Erik! What are you doing here?"

"I was wondering the same thing," he said with a half smile. He indicated the piles with his eyes before turning them back to her.

"I-I was looking for something."

"Indeed." He folded his hands across his chest, obviously waiting for more.

Seeing that he wasn't about to take her simple explanation for an answer, she sighed and waded through the clothes until she made it to the bed and sat down heavily.

"I was looking for the wedding dress. But I can't seem to find it anywhere," she said with a hint of defeat in her voice.

Erik felt a pang of guilt. He hated reminding Christine about the negative things that occurred in their past, but the matter of the dress appeared to be unavoidable.

"I had to dispose of it," he mumbled quickly, not looking at her.

Christine's eyes widened in surprise and anger. "You threw it away?" She rose, not caring if she stepped on the clothes as she confronted him. "Erik, how could you do something like that?"

Baffled that she couldn't, or wouldn't remember, he held her at arms length by her shoulders.

"Because you ruined it," he said flatly.

He could feel her rigid form weaken as the realization dawned on her. She recalled that fateful night, the night of the torture chamber. The night that she had beat her head against a wall until she was dazed and bloodied. Her suicide attempt had done nothing except to aggravate Erik further and in the end ruined a beautiful display of beaded satin. How could she have ever forgotten?

She looked up at him remorsefully. "Oh Erik, I'm so sorry."

He gathered her in his arms, crushing her against his chest as he held onto her fiercely. She started to cry.

It was inappropriate and he knew it, but he couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. The sound of it caused Christine to stop and immediately she pushed away from him.

"What is so funny?" she fumed, glaring up at him.

Her pout only made him laugh harder.

"I'm sorry my dear," he apologized as he gestured to the mess, "but it amuses me that you are getting this worked up over a dress."

Christine opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her by placing a finger over her lips. He leaned in and placed a kiss on the side of her cheek before he grabbed her hand and led her away from the disaster she had created and back out into the living room.

He let go of her and disappeared into his own room, leaving Christine to wonder what he was up to. Moments later he appeared and placed a handful of francs into her small hand.

He wiped the tears away from her face, his hand lingering on her cheek as he said, "It is much simpler than that, really." He placed a small kiss by her ear. "Take what I have given you," one on her neck, "and buy yourself a new one." Another kiss under her chin. "The cost does not matter so long as you are happy. I'm rather certain you can convince young Meg Giry to accompany you." He slid his hand to the back of her head and tangled his fingers in her dark tresses before claiming her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she answered his kiss, deepening its intensity.

The sound of a throat being cleared from behind startled them. Erik broke the kiss, but did not look away from Christine as he spoke.

"Your timing is impeccable _Daroga,_" He said dryly. "Be grateful that I don't nail you to the wall for interrupting."

Nadir stood in the doorway with a large envelope in his hand and a small grin on his face. "Why the anger?" he teased. "After all, you were expecting me."

"Yes, well..." Erik grumbled, adjusting his collar. He pointed to the chair by the hearth. "Have a seat _Daroga_ and I will be with you in a moment.

He turned back to Christine and smiled wryly before taking her by the hand and leading her back toward her bedroom. Once inside, he located her cloak and placed it on her shoulders. Still standing behind her he whispered wickedly in her ear, "You should be grateful as well. I look forward to the day when I won't have to stop."

Christine blushed intensely as he chuckled.

"Have a good time my dear," he said earnestly. "I shall see you when you return."

With that, he escorted her out of her bedroom and to the door that led outside. He stole one more quick kiss to tide him over before she ran across the bank, the darkness engulfing her.

XXXXXXXX

Turning back to Nadir, Erik gave him a look of feigned contempt. Nadir laughed heartily.

"I trust you have information for me and your presence here isn't just to get in the way?" Erik said, still pretending to be inconvenienced.

His comment threw Nadir into another fit of laughter. After a few more moments of boisterous display, he was finally able to calm himself down by taking a couple of deep breaths. If a man were to ever come close to giggling, Nadir was about there.

Wiping his eyes with the back of his good hand, he grabbed the envelope from where he wedged it between his thigh and the side of the arm rest. He handed it to Erik and sat back with an expectant smile.

Erik took the envelope from him and slowly slid out the papers that were inside. There was a whole stack of them. The first appeared to be paperwork in various stages, detailing the purchase of the house outside of Paris that he had wanted.

Nadir narrated as Erik went through them.

"You are now the proud owner of a modest home on the outskirts of the city. The furniture is being delivered as we speak. I have arranged for a full kitchen staff as well as a maid and a butler. They are scheduled to begin work the morning after the wedding."

Erik's head shot up with a slightly apprehensive look upon his face.

"Don't worry," Nadir laughed as he stretched his hand out to indicate that Erik should remain calm. "The money that you provided for the purchase of the house was a lot more than I needed. In fact, it was enough to pay for their services for three years. I have met with them personally and they have all been apprised of your _unique_ situation."

"Which is?" Erik said with strangled breath.

"I informed them that their employer was a former war veteran who had suffered severe injuries to the face when a shell exploded next to him in combat. Forgive me for telling a white lie, but I thought it would make you seem more personable. And it would minimize any further questions about your past."

A new start, Erik thought. Nadir had given him the opportunity and a plausible story for him to re-enter society. If he were to continue using that delectable piece of fiction, he might find everyone to be more accepting instead of shunning him. Why hadn't he thought of that?

"The second set of documents," Nadir continued, "contain the details regarding your name."

Erik hurriedly flipped through the pages until he found the one Nadir referred to.

"Bertrand?"

"It quite literally means 'intelligent raven'. I thought it fitting."

Of all the names that would have accurately described him...At least he wasn't going to be parading around with the name of a fairy, and for that he was eternally grateful to Nadir. He couldn't have chosen a more perfect moniker.

He cleared his throat. "Everything appears to be in order here _Daroga_. Good work." He slid the papers back into the envelope and placed them on the shelf by the organ. "What about the other matter we discussed?"

"Your private ceremony will take place next Saturday at two o'clock in the afternoon. As requested, Darius and I will be present to serve as witnesses. I assume that Mlle Daae will have a few people she would like to invite as well."

"Very good," Erik replied. "I am certain that Christine will want little Meg Giry and her mother to be there. If you would be so kind as to coordinate with Madame Giry, I would like us all to meet at our new house," this in itself sounded odd for him to be saying, "after the ceremony for a small celebration."

"Splendid." Nadir started to rise. "I suppose I shall let you continue on with your day."

"Nonsense. You were kind enough to barge in here earlier, you could at least stay for a cup of tea and a game of chess."

XXXXXXXX

Christine felt absolutely giddy as she wandered around the small shop with Meg trailing along behind her. Absently she ran her hand over the many dresses set out before her. She had always imagined what it would be like to shop for her own wedding dress. But she had not anticipated how hard the decision would be. There were so many different types and styles. Inwardly she knew that she was trying to find something similar to the one that Erik had bought for her so long ago. Like things inevitably do, trends had changed once again and she was faced a dozen or so beautiful dresses of the latest fashion.

Meg chirped happily from dress to dress, picking up some for emphasis as she cooed over each style, citing what she like about one and disliked about the other.

Christine was about to make her selection when she spotted the fabric of a sleeve peeking out from underneath the pile of dresses. Curious, she coaxed the dress out to reveal a waterfall of delicate linen. The dress was neither satin nor beaded, but she was instantly drawn to it. The bodice of the dress was made of silk, a trail of lace encircled the top and ran along and over the arms to the back, dividing the bodice from the collar. The part that would sit above her breasts, as well as the sleeves were made up of transparent gossamer, soft to the touch. The same gossamer fabric sat atop the full skirt and comprised the long train that would trail behind her. The skirt was also trimmed with three circles of lace, creating a tiered effect as it cascaded down. She fell in love with it immediately.

Meg squealed when she seen it. "Oh Christine. It's perfect!"

Nodding in agreement, Christine turned with the dress over her arm and walked to where the veils were on display. She selected one with a headpiece made of white and pink flowers. The veil would hang to the middle of her back once she had it on. Since the dress came up to just below her neck, she wasn't in need of a necklace, but she did choose a pair of pearl teardrop earrings, each with a small faux diamond at the top.

All the way back to the opera house, Meg talked incessantly about the things that had gone on after Christine had left. Although she was interested to hear about her friends and what had going on in their lives, Meg's words were nothing more than incoherent sentences. She was too caught up in thinking that Erik was to be her husband in less than eight days.

"Christine, are you listening to me?"

"Hmm?" She looked up, honestly surprised to find the steps of the opera house in front of her.

"I was telling you that the masked ball has been scheduled for tomorrow night," Meg said.

Christine glanced up at her, guilty that she hadn't been listening.

"Mother says that you will need to be prepared to answer lots of questions. But that shouldn't be hard as long as you stick to your story." She grinned. "This is going to be _so_ much fun! Who knows? Maybe I will meet the man of my dreams there."

Christine smiled at her exuberance.

"Well I suppose that nothing I say or do will get your mind out of the clouds today," Meg told her, handing her the parcels that she had been carrying. "But you can't hide from me tomorrow. For tomorrow will be _marvelous_! Good night Christine!" she called as she ran down the corridor toward to dormitory.

XXXXXXXX

Erik was perched at the organ when she entered the house on the lake. Upon hearing her, he was instantly up, helping her with her many packages.

Lightened from her load, she sat down on the settee with a sigh as Erik resumed his seat at the organ.

"The masked ball is tomorrow night," she began conversationally.

Erik nodded in acknowledgment.

"Have you considered what your plans are after the wedding?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" Christine sat up, confused. "I-I don't understand what you mean Erik."

He swung around on the bench so that he was facing her.

"What I meant is have you given any thought to returning to the stage?" he replied.

She blinked rapidly for a few moments. No, she hadn't considered continuing her career at the opera. When she left with Raoul he had expressly forbidden her to sing, especially in his presence. She had just accepted that those days were behind her.

Erik could tell by the look on her face that she hadn't pondered the idea.

"Would you like to?" he asked softly.

"Would I?" she brightened. "_Could I_?"

He felt a momentary stab of pain at her excitement, and also resentment for his fallen rival at withholding such joy. He motioned for her to come to him.

She all but leaped off the settee and stood before him with a hopeful smile. He gently pulled her between his legs and brought her hand to his lips, then positioned it so she was cupping his masked cheek.

"Christine. I am your Angel of Music, after all. You have a great gift, one that I helped create, and it is a shame to keep such a gift from the world."

She swelled with happiness. She dropped to her knees and threw her arms around his neck. He reveled in her closeness before he rose, gently tugging her into standing position with him.

"Good. We will begin right away," he said curtly as he selected a piece of music from the stack on the organ.

He placed it on the small music stand above the keyboard. After a few warm up scales he hit the opening note. Christine took her cue and plunged into the aria. Their voices met and melded, her pure soprano blending perfecting with his smooth tenor. Together they rose and fell in song, singing of a passion that they would soon experience and share for themselves.

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**A/N: **Another filler chapter, I know. But nonetheless I hope you found it interesting and entertaining. More is on the way. And remember, the greatest gift you can give an author is telling her how she's doing *shameful insinuation to keep reviewing :-)* Until next time....~J


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N**: Sorry for the long delay. The truth of the matter was that I got a wild hair and wrote the epilogue to this story before I had written this chapter. So I have been busy, you just haven't been able to see it cause I can't post that yet. :-)

Anyway, I have since resorted to writing notes on my phone when I've been without a notebook. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Keep up the great feedback, all of you. I enjoy it so much!

Happy holidays to those of you that celebrate them, happy weekend to those who don't.

Peace and love. ~J

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Chapter 21 – The Bal Masque

The day of the masked ball started out like any other, except on that particular morning Christine was awakened by a slight warm pressure on her lips as Erik gently kissed her. She lifted her eyes dreamily and greeted him with a soft smile. She looked behind him to where a tray of breakfast sat waiting for her.

She laughed quietly as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. It had become an unspoken game between them. Each morning Christine would tell herself that she would get up early and surprise Erik with breakfast, and each morning he would beat her to it. His previous comment about wanting to linger in bed after they were married jumped into her mind and she blushed warmly at the memory.

Their wedding was mere days away and she was overcome by both excitement and the smallest amount of trepidation when she thought about her and Erik finally expressing their love physically.

It was just yesterday that she had selected her wedding dress, that Erik had informed her that their wedding was to be on Saturday. On top of that she was still reeling from his announcement that he would like her to continue her career at the opera house. So much had happened since Raoul's death that she hadn't even had time to think about her music, about the hole its absence left in her life. Knowing that Erik intended to resume his role of teacher as well as a husband brought back pleasant images of their past and surrounded her with happiness and comfort.

She became aware of Erik's close proximity. He was still sitting on the edge of her bed, with one hand on each side of her legs. His dark form was outlined by the soft candlelight that glowed from the bureau, the eyes behind his mask matching the candle's intensity as he gazed lovingly down on her.

"Morning my love," she whispered shyly.

Even though Erik was assured of Christine's love for him, he had never heard her address him in such a way. He threaded his arms around her small waist and pulled her tightly against him while his mouth sought hers hungrily. She answered his insistent request by parting her mouth to let his wandering tongue explore her own. She could feel his desire build when she ran her hands up his back and buried them in his hair. He released her lips and nestled his masked face in her neck, tugging and nipping playfully at her ear. Christine moaned in pleasure and sat back against the headboard. Erik slid his right hand across her cheek until it rested by her ear, so that he could cup the back of her head and pulled her ever so slightly toward him as he trailed his lips along the edge of her chin.

"Good morning," he answered huskily.

He sat back, his eyes lingering on her swollen lips. It had been so tempting to lose control, to bed her right then and there. All he would have had to do was swing his legs around and cover her body with his own…

But he resisted, standing instead to straighten his clothes. He could wait a few more days.

Once he had sufficiently swallowed his desire, he turned to grab the tray from its resting place on the bureau.

"Will you be joining me Erik?" Christine asked.

"No my dear," he replied. He set the tray on her lap and handed her a piece of toast.

"I never see you eat," she continued. "Aren't you hungry?"

Oh, he was hungry all right… He immediately chastised himself for such wicked thoughts before he went on, "It takes rather little to sustain me. Don't worry _mon ange_," he said when he saw the look that had crept onto her pretty face, "I am taking care of myself."

Satisfied Christine relaxed and took a bite of her toast.

He waited a moment for her to finish before he asked, "Have you prepared yourself for tonight?"

She blinked in confusion.

"The men and women who are attending tonight will act like rabid dogs. They are all looking for interesting and revealing tidbits about where you've been and what you were thinking and feeling the entire time you were missing. Believe me, they are relentless and will stop at nothing until they get an answer from you that satisfies their insatiable curiosity." His eyes softened behind the mask as he clarified. "You must be ready for that. You will have to be certain that your answers are accurate and that they don't sound forced or rehearsed."

Christine nodded weakly in understanding. Her eyes had gone wide and she'd lost a bit of the bright color that her skin held only moments before.

Erik laughed lightly. "Don't look so panicked. You will do fine. But I would be remiss if I didn't warn you about it."

He walked to the door, but turned at the last minute. "I was also planning on having you make a public announcement of your intent to return to the stage."

With that, he left her to chew on her thoughts as well as her food.

XXXXXXXX

A few hours later Christine was seated at her vanity, applying the finishing touches to her hair. She had swept the majority of it up on the top of her head, the curls spilling out in well defined tendrils. The few pieces that were left down hung in soft ringlets over her shoulders.

The dress she had chosen to wear that night was a brilliant sapphire blue. The cut was rather revealing with its off-the-shoulder design. A thin line of black lace decorated the top of the bodice and descended into an intricately woven triangular pattern just below her décolletage. The skirt was separated into two layers. The top half fell to her knees and gathered into a bustle fringed with black lace in the back. The bottom half was just long enough to cover most of her velvet black heeled shoes.

She sat back and examined herself in the mirror. The color and cut of her dress made her shoulders appear creamy and smooth. She decided against wearing a necklace, thinking that it would only detract from her ensemble instead of heightening it.

She placed a black jeweled comb in her hair and gently secured the mask of black feathers over her eyes and nose. She finished by pulling on black gloves that ran the length of her forearms and ended just above her elbows.

She took a deep breath as she opened the door the led to the living room and stepped through into the warm atmosphere.

Erik sat hunched in his usual position at the organ. He wore the same immaculate evening dress the he'd had on earlier.

Puzzled, Christine stepped up behind him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Erik?"

He jumped slightly, but did not turn to look at her.

"Aren't you ready?" she asked. "It is time to go."

He sat up straight and swiveled around to look at her.

"Is it that time already?" he sighed.

The moment he laid eyes on her however, his woes of being interrupted were forgotten. His mouth hung open in awe at the alluring and beguiling woman that stood before him.

"You are absolutely stunning," he breathed, standing to take her hand. He placed a kiss on her gloved wrist. "I shall have to be vigilant tonight lest some strapping young man should think he can fill up your dance card."

"Erik," she teased. "You know I only have eyes for you."

His eyes sparkled. "It is not you I'm worried about."

He let go of her hand before she could protest any further and went to retrieve her cloak. When he draped it over her bare shoulders she immediately became suspicious.

"What are you doing? We cannot leave yet, you're not ready."

"It would look odd if you were to arrive accompanied so soon after the boy's death. It is better if I wait here for a short time and meet up with you once things are in full swing," he calmly explained.

"But Erik," Christine argued, "we will be getting married in a matter of days! How will you explain that?"

"Because our wedding will be a private affair," he said patiently. "By the time the new opera season begins, it will have been considered a long enough time for you to mourn properly. No one will question your decision to marry."

Deciding that it was best not to press him any further, Christine pressed her lips together in silence.

"How will I find you?" she asked quietly. He detected only a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Do not worry yourself about such things. When the time is right, I will find you."

XXXXXXXX

Christine and Meg could hear the excited murmur of the party even before they arrived at the _Grand Escalier_. Christine had instructed Meg to meet her in her old dressing room. As usual, Meg's entrance proceed her as she bounced down the hall. She pushed through the door in a flurry of rustling fabric.

Meg's dress was more simple than her own, but beautiful nonetheless. It was a light shade of pink with an empire waistline, short pillowed sleeves and a wide neckline. The skirts hung from her tiny waist in such a way that they fluttered delicately from side to side as she walked. Her venetian mask was made up of stark white porcelain with pink and silver paint around the eyes and a red puckered mouth. White feathers shot out from the sides.

"Christine!" she said breathlessly. "You look wonderful!"

"As do you Meg," she replied.

Meg took a few steps from the door and craned her neck to look behind Christine.

"Where is your beau?"

Christine shot her a pointed look that effectively silenced any other questions that Meg might have had.

"He will come later," she whispered, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice. Meg could practically see it as she spoke.

Ever the optimistic and buoyant one, Meg smiled and held her hand out to Christine. "Fine then, let him be that way. We shall enjoy the party by ourselves!"

Christine couldn't resist Meg's joyous plea for a night of fun. Determined not to let Erik's absence bother her, she took Meg's hand and allowed herself to be dragged in the direction of the festivities.

The foyer was already packed with people, their voices raised in merriment. Some danced, others visited with acquaintances off to the side of the raucous, there were even men that were chasing women around, all while the alcohol flowed freely.

Meg skipped off happily, in search of fellow members of the ballet corps. For a long moment Christine stared at the scene, remembering the last masquerade ball and the way it ended.

"Mademoiselle Daae!" she heard above the din.

Her eyes roamed the crowd in search of the source. Several more echoes of her name floated to her as more and more people realized she had arrived.

She grabbed a glass of champagne from the tray of a waiter who wandered by and downed it for good measure just as a group of anxious people flocked toward her.

"Mademoiselle!" they shouted, their voices blending together until they sounded unintelligible. Each man was trying to be heard above the other, trying to wedge his way to the front in an effort to be closest to her. They were almost clambering at her feet. Christine blinked rapidly, trying to distinguish the noise in her mind. She noted that some men held notepads,while others were accompanied by their wives or lady friends, all of them eager to speak with her or learn what happened to her so they could gossip.

She hardly had time to get her bearings before they fired questions at her, not even waiting for her to answer one before someone else asked another.

"Where have you been?"

"How did you escape?"

"Did you murder your fiance for his money?"

"What will you do now that you are free?"

She tried to answer their questions as best she could, collaborating her earlier story that she and Mother Giry submitted to the newspapers.

"I was kidnapped by the man who murdered my fiance and taken to England."

"I escaped by attracting attention in Liverpool."

When someone threw the heartless question about Raoul at her, she faltered momentarily, before becoming angry and lashed out at the careless person who proposed such a ludicrous idea.

"Wha-? _How could you ask that?!_" Tears appeared in her eyes but she held them back. " I would never dream of-"

"Get out of here you vultures!" a sharp voice barked. The crowd immediately parted as a stout man with a mutton-chop mustache pushed his way through. "I said go on...GET!"

The crowd grumbled resentfully, but started to disperse. Christine, who was still shaking from her outburst, snatched another glass of champagne as the waiter snaked in between the throng. She took a gulp as the man removed his top hat and extended his hand.

"Forgive me for the interruption Mademoiselle Daae," he said with a sly smile that implied he knew she was grateful for his timely rescue. "I am Inspector Rosseau. May I have a moment of your time?"

Christine nodded her assent and he swung his arm wide to allow her to pass through the crowd. He indicated a quiet alcove near the stairs that appeared to be less occupied. When he was reasonably certain he could be heard, he spoke again.

"I was in charge of conducting the investigation into the Chagny murder."

Christine nodded again in understanding and took another swig from her glass. Inspector Rosseau eyed her carefully to make sure she was following what he had to say.

"We have since closed the case and you have been eliminated as a suspect. We have collaborated your story with the local newspapers and have been able to determine that one Daniel Stewart has been found dead in England. Since a foreign country is obviously outside my jurisdiction, I was unable to obtain the details surrounding his death. The only information the English authorities were able to provide me was that Daniel was in fact dead."

Thank goodness for small miracles, Christine thought.

"I beg your pardon Inspector," Christine said meekly. "I was a suspect?" So that horrible man had been right...

"Standard protocol Mademoiselle, you understand," he replied quickly, as if to shelter her from more pain and embarrassment. "Think of it more as you were a person of interest. There are certain procedures that we are required to take, especially in such a high profile case where a large amount of money is concerned."

Christine swallowed. The man was only doing his job. Still, it hurt her to think someone could accuse her of murdering her dear friend and former fiance.

"Thank you for updating me Inspector. Now if you'll please excuse me," she said politely. She attempted to step away but he restrained her by her arm.

"Not so fast Mademoiselle. There is more."

She grimaced, not sure if she wanted to hear the rest.

"Since you are the closest to the Vicomte's last living relative, I am honored to inform you that you are the sole inheritor of the Chagny fortune. An account has been established in your name at the First Bank of France."

Christine's face drained of color.

"Congratulations Mademoiselle," he said, shaking her listless hand, "you are now a wealthy woman!"

Presently Inspector Rosseau let go of her hand and wandered off to enjoy the celebration.

Christine's mind reeled from the revelations. She found it hard to breathe. She reached for another fluted glass to calm her rattled nerves and downed its contents as she searched the sea of masked faces for Meg.

Soon the room began to spin along with the swirling dancers and it seemed that all the unmoving smiles were glaring down at her. Fueled by panic at the unfamiliarity, she began pushing herself through the revelers, desperate to get away. The party goers towered above her, leaning down and cackling at her plight until she was lost and consumed by tears.

Frantic, she turned to run in the opposite direction when a pair of strong hands reached out and grabbed her, pulling her away from the fray. She yelped and began to fight back, but the figure would not let go.

Once they were sufficiently away from the crowd, the owner of those unrelenting hands turned. He was dressed in black slacks and a black velour overcoat with silk lapels. The white frills of his dress shirt peeked out from his collar and sleeves. The overcoat itself was embroidered with an intricate gold scroll pattern and matched the mask of beaten gold he wore over his face. The mask stood apart from his dark hair and clothing.

Christine's world was spinning nonstop and although she was still confused, she was also feeling sluggish and sick.

When the man reached up to remove her mask, she continued to fight him halfheartedly, but ultimately she was too tired to do more than push his hand away weakly.

Concerned but undeterred, the man whispered, "Christine?"

"Erik?"

He answered her by wiping the tears from her cheeks.

Relief flooded through her as she collapsed into unconsciousness against his frame. In a single motion he gathered her in his arms, letting her head rest again his shoulder.

He looked back once to make sure no one was watching when he locked eyes with Meg. She had removed her mask, which she now held in her hand, and on her face she wore a look of worry and concern. She stopped dead in her tracks, like an immovable object while the chaos continued unaware around her. Erik remained absolutely still, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

As the two stared each other down, he noticed the look in Meg's eyes soften and her body relaxed. She looked from him to Christine briefly before she gave him a knowing smile and the faintest of nods. He held her gaze for only a moment longer before he turned on his heel and disappeared into the corridor beyond. Meg watched as Christine and her Phantom were enveloped once again in welcoming darkness.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: **Greetings all. Sorry for the long delay in updating. I have a couple of reasons (excuses :-)). First is that this chapter is so important, that I feared I wouldn't get it right. I hope I have managed to keep everything tasteful and in keeping with what everyone wants.

Second is that I am actuall working on a second story called _Thoughts of Summertime_. Its an alternate universe fic and I'm having a great deal of fun with it.

Once more I would like to thank all the people who have read this story and shared their wonderful thoughts with me and encouraged me to keep going. I will say it again, you are the ones who have made it worth it, and you are the ones who have made me realize that I have a passion for writing and would like to pursue it further.

Please, please let me know if this chapter was everything you hoped it would be.

No more talk now, I promise. On with the story! ~J

**

* * *

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**Chapter 22 – For Now, For Ever, For Always**

Christine groaned and put her hand to her forehead. With great effort she opened her eyes and groggily looked around. Erik hovered over her, a concerned look glowing in his amber eyes.

He still wore the mask of beaten gold, along with the beautiful velour overcoat with the scroll work pattern. His dark hair was disheveled, evidence of him running his fingers through it.

What had happened?

She tried to sit up but her head spun, making her woozy. Grimacing, she fell back with a sigh.

"Easy my love. Don't over do it," Erik said softly. The light from the fireplace flickered behind him.

The last thing she remembered was the swirling faces and the room spinning out of control. Perhaps she shouldn't have had so much to drink.

The inspector's face came into focus in her mind and with it, the revelation of inheriting Raoul's fortune. Overcome with a sudden wave of nausea, she struggled to sit up and barely made it outside before she retched. She could hear Erik's footsteps behind her as he approached.

"Do you feel better?" he asked as he rubbed some color back into her cheeks. She nodded. She actually did feel a little better, at least physically. The incessant spinning had stopped and her mind felt a bit clearer.

He slowly led her back into the living room and eased her down onto the settee she had been laying on. He then disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water.

He waited patiently while she hungrily gulped the cool liquid before he said, "Whatever possessed you to drink that much?"

Her eyes skirted guiltily away from his.

"You were right...about everything," she whispered. He sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. "It was all a mistake. I know that now. I should never have put myself into that sort of situation. I had absolutely no control."

Erik frowned. He should have gotten there sooner. He shouldn't have let her face those vultures alone.

"They attacked me, just like you said they would," she went on. "One even had the audacity to accuse me of killing Raoul." Her eyes hardened and she clenched her tiny hands into fists. "Do you know that I was actually a suspect at one point in time?"

"I wouldn't have put it past that piece of filth to spread rumors like that to take the suspicion off himself," he said grimly.

Christine nodded. She hadn't considered that Daniel might have done just that.

"Where did you hear that you were a suspect?"

Christine drew a deep breath and straightened. "An inspector found me in the crowd. He told me the case had been closed. Our story worked well, because believe it or not, the English authorities were able to collaborate it. They weren't willing to divulge much, certainly not the actual details surrounding his death, but it was enough to satisfy Inspector Rosseau."

Erik released a sigh of relief. What good fortune, he thought. Everything was finally falling into place.

"We should get you to bed," he insisted, grabbing her hand so he could help her stand. "We can talk more about it all in the morning."

"Wait Erik! Please, not yet." She pulled her hand from his. "There is more. I need to get it all out now or I will go crazy!"

He couldn't refuse the desperation in her voice and for a moment he thought that something terrible had happened that he was unaware of. Maybe she was having second thoughts. He had heard of couples getting what was known as "cold feet" just days before their wedding. But from the look in her eyes, he could tell that it wasn't normal wedding jitters that had her so agitated.

"What happened my love? Tell me."

"Well," she laughed nervously, wringing her hands. "It seems that I am a lot wealthier than when I woke up this morning."

Erik narrowed his eyes in confusion, but said nothing.

"I just inherited Raoul's estate and the entire Chagny fortune."

His jaw dropped. He struggled to say something, anything, but the words would not come.

"And I don't want it!" she cried passionately. "It was always be tainted. I could never go back into that mansion and not think of him, of what they did to him. I fear it will become a burden on us and our marriage, and Erik, I don't want that to happen."

"No, it will not become a burden," Erik replied gently. "We can sell the estate if that is what you wish. But I would recommend holding on to some of that money and putting it aside for a rainy day. You never know when you might need it." He paused. "I won't lie to you Christine. I am a rather wealthy man myself and you will not want or need for anything. But you need to look at the distant future. I will not be around forever and you must think of yourself and our children."

_Our children?_ Her heart started to thump at the concept.

"Now," he said with a hint of humor in his voice, "if you are not too inebriated to walk, I suggest we get some rest. Or shall I carry you?"

XXXXXXXX

Christine was up with the dawn. Sunlight peeked through the sheer window curtains and bathed her in a rosy hue. Outside the birds happily greeted the morning with song. It seemed all of Paris was blossoming and coming to life, and she couldn't think of when she'd seen a more beautiful day. Today was her wedding day.

As was the custom, Christine was not allowed to see the groom before the ceremony. She absolutely wanted to start her marriage off on the right foot, so she had spent the night with Madame and Meg Giry. She and Meg had stayed up till all hours of the night talking. It reminded her of her days in the conservatory.

She sighed contentedly and pushed the covers away. She padded on bare feet across the cool wooden floor and pushed the curtain aside so she could watch the sunrise. Her mind wandered to thoughts of later. She could still not believe that she was marrying Erik in a few short hours. She wondered what he was doing at the moment, and how he felt about all this. She only hoped that time would be kind to both of them and not drag its feet.

Christine underestimated just how quickly time would fly by. Soon after she woke up, Meg had burst into the room with her usual spirited energy. She bounced and fluttered around as they ate breakfast together, talking up a storm to try to keep Christine from feeling nervous.

Before she knew it, she was seated in the drawing room while Meg and her mother carefully curled and set her hair, pulling pieces of it back with pearl combs.

"You make a beautiful bride Christine," Madame Giry said as she secure her veil. "Your mama and papa would be proud, as am I."

Christine smiled and mouthed a thank you.

Both of the women helped Christine into a standing position and assisted her into her dress. Madame Giry took hold of both of her hands while Meg fastened the buttons in the back.

"I have known Erik for a long time _cherie_, and I have never seen him as happy as when he is with you. Thank you for bringing some light into his life," she said sincerely, as she kissed her on the cheek.

Christine fought back tears at the tender statement.

Meg handed Christine the box that contained Erik's ring and then gathered her train so she could walk out to the waiting carriage. When the horse pulled away from the curb, Christine's heart fluttered with anticipation.

"Are you ready Christine?" Meg asked gleefully.

She took a deep breath. _Yes_, she thought. Madame Giry squeezed her hand tightly as the church came into view. She was ready.

Nadir and Darius greeted the trio in the vestibule as they walked in.

"Good afternoon Mademoiselle," Nadir said, placing a kiss on her hand. Christine smiled with barely contained excitement.

"Do you perchance have a ring to give Erik?" he asked.

She nodded and handed the box to him. He opened it and took the ring out. "Exquisite," he said as he put it in the inside pocket of his waistcoat.

He cleared his throat. "Mademoiselle-"

"Please, call me Christine," she said softly.

"Very well. Christine, as you know, Erik is a gentleman who would do anything within his power to make you happy. His wish is for you to have as traditional a wedding as possible. Therefore, he has asked me to escort you down the aisle. If you're willing, of course."

Christine was flattered at the idea. "I am truly touched and would be honored if you walked me down the aisle."

"The ceremony will begin in a few minutes," Darius cut in. "If you are staying with the mademoiselle, I will see to it that Erik has everything he needs."

Nadir nodded and Darius hurried to the chapel. Madame Giry gave Christine a quick peck on her cheek. "Good luck my dear! We'll see you inside," she said. Meg hugged her and ran to catch up with her mother.

Nadir came around to the side of her and offered his good arm. She threaded her hand through and they linked elbows. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she was sure he could hear it. But all he did was smile warmly at her.

"It is time," he whispered.

He lead her around the corner and the world ceased to exist. Everything and everyone around her could vanish without a trace and she wouldn't notice. She saw nothing but Erik.

He stood up on the dais at the far end of the chapel. He was immaculately dressed, as always. He wore a stark white dress shirt with a black cravat held down by a single mother of pearl pin. His jacket was narrow and fitted his lean waist perfectly. His dark hair was slicked back and on his face sat a smooth white mask instead of his usual black leather one. The eyes behind it were intense, and he never took them off of her as she approached.

She looked stunningly beautiful in her white dress with her veil cascading down her curly hair, he thought. He was amazed that this lovely creature had chosen him to start a life with. This was, without a doubt, the happiest time in his entire life. The moment that he had longed for, lived for was just a few short steps away.

She stepped up on the dais and stood next to him, her eyes still riveted on his. Nadir quietly moved behind Erik as the priest began the ceremony.

"Would you please join hands," the priest instructed, his voice echoing loudly in the empty church. "Two hearts come together as one today, and beat as one from this day forward. Two lives are irretrievably intertwined, never to be separate again." Erik's hands tightened around Christine's. "The love you share for each other can only grow," he continued. "Remember this in difficult times of heartache and woe. Remember the joy you bring each other, and remember that without the other, neither of you will ever be complete."

Nadir removed the rings from his breast pocket and handed them to the priest.

He turned slightly toward Erik, holding the ring out for him to take. "Do you Erik Bertrand, take Christine Daae to be your wife, to stay by her side in times of sickness and health, to honor and obey her? Do you promise to love her, support her, and cleave only unto her until death parts you?"

Erik's bottom lip trembled slightly. "I do," he whispered as he slid the ring on her slender finger. "Forever."

Christine smiled as her eyes welled up with tears. She held them back as the priest turned to her.

"And do you, Christine Daae, take Erik Bertrand to be your husband, to stay by his side in times of sickness and health, to honor and obey him? Do you promise to love him, support him, and cleave only unto him until death parts you?"

The tears she was holding back filled her eyes and slid silently down her cheeks. They fell down and landed on their joined hands, tracing a path as she coaxed the ring on. "I do."

"Then in the presence of God and these witnesses, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Erik slowly lifted the veil away from Christine's face and brushed the side of her cheek with his palm. He leaned in and tenderly placed his lips over her own. His kiss was unsure at first, but grew steadier and she slid her arms around his waist. It was chaste and brief, this kiss of theirs, but it spoke volumes about the love they shared to the four people who knew them so well.

"Go now and face the world as Monsieur and Madame Bertrand," the priest said.

Erik took Christine by the hand and led her down the aisle toward the entrance of the church. Madame Giry and Meg were right behind them, followed by Nadir and Darius.

The bright afternoon sun greeted them, kissing their faces and bathing them it its warmth. Christine was dazzled at how her newly acquired diamond sparkled in the light. Every now and then she would sneak a glance and admire it when Erik wasn't looking. It was truly marvelous. Once again, Erik had outdone himself.

He opened the door to the carriage that he, Nadir and Darius had come in and helped Christine climb inside while Meg held her train. Once she was situated inside, Erik nodded at Meg who ran back to join the others in the second carriage.

Christine sat quietly with her hands folded in her lap. She wasn't prepared for such an awkward moment, but truthfully she didn't know quite how to act. Erik closed the door and sat down next to her on the seat. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly to him.

"Happy?" he asked.

Her head came to rest under his chin as she returned his embrace. "Mmhmm," she sighed. She tilted her head slightly to look up at him. "This is the happiest day of my life. I love you Erik."

He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. She giggled with delight and settled against him, enjoying the warmth of his body and the steady rise and fall of his chest. Closing her eyes, she listened to him breathe. He pressed his masked face into the veil and took in the scent of her hair.

"Where are we going?" she said at length. They were well past the Opera House now.

"I have arranged a small celebration," he replied cryptically.

Christine extricated herself and sat back with a sly smile. "A celebration? You? This is so unexpected, so unlike you."

"Today is the beginning of my new life. There are many things about me that I wish to change. You are responsible for making me want to change them," he said, playfully cuffing her chin.

"What sort of changes?"

"You will just have to wait and see," he purred conspiratorially.

She pushed her bottom lip out in a teasing pout and then sat up to take in the scenery. She didn't want to miss a second of this mysterious place they were heading too. Eventually the number of buildings and flats diminished and the cityscape gave way to countryside.

The cloistered beauty of the city was no match for the large houses and sprawling orchards that she saw on their short journey. The hadn't traveled too far from Paris and although the houses were still close together, they allowed the residents much more privacy than living in the city did.

The horse pulled the carriage to a stop in front of a quaint looking house. It was painted a brick red with black trim and surrounded by a lovely wrought iron fence. The yard was small and lined with lush, full trees that would create delectable shade and shadows to lounge in once the summer's heat took over. The house itself appeared to be two stories, with huge windows that would allow in a vast amount of natural light. Two chimneys perched on top of the roof.

Erik twisted the handle and jump out, extending his hand to allow Christine the balance she needed to climb out. She gathered her train over her arm and took his hand. The afternoon sun was bright and she squinted from the transition from the dark carriage to the bright outdoors.

Meg and Madame Giry were already climbing the steps. Christine overheard Nadir instruct Darius to take the carriages around back so that the horses could have food and water. Darius nodded and then Nadir walked toward them, rubbing his hands together in a satisfied fashion.

"Everything seems to be in order here, Erik. Are you ready to go inside?"

Erik dipped his head in ascent and Nadir led the way.

The house was even more stunning up close. The first thing Christine noticed was the giant wooden door with a large glass panel in the center. Delicate lace curtains covered the window, giving the house a lived in, but high class look. The porch was large and had a swing that swayed slightly in the breeze off to the side.

She gasped when she walked in. Rich browns met her eyes, the dark hardwood floors with pretty red rugs, the mahogany balustrade, the wood panels that ran halfway up the wall. Above it, the walls were painted a soft cream color. Directly in front of her, a staircase led to the upper floor. To her right was a drawing room with curtains on the windows that matched those on the door. The furniture looked almost new, untouched. Whoever lived here certainly took pride in their possessions.

To her left was an open expanse that contained a sleek black grand piano that stood in the middle of the room. Tall windows let in massive amounts of light, making the room cheerful. Two settees on opposite walls of the piano made the room more cozy, taking away the empty feeling of it. Guessing from the busy clangs of cutlery and dishes, she assumed the kitchen was located toward the rear of the house.

The next few hours were a blur of excitement and merriment. A middle aged woman in a cornflower blue dress and white apron weaved around with a tray of hors d'oeuvres while the small party mingled. It amazed her to see Erik so at ease, even though he didn't venture far from her side. Occasionally he would stand behind her and thread his arms possessively around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as they talked with the Girys or Nadir.

Every now and then she would hear bursts of laughter coming from the kitchen as Nadir chatted with the cook. From the sound of it, he appeared to be a good natured, jolly fellow, who enjoyed sharing his opinions with whomever would listen. At one time, Erik wandered out of the drawing room to join them.

"Men," Madame Giry laughed, "they need their masculine discussions. It's good for their souls and then we don't have to listen to them. God forbid we have to hear about shoeing horses or boring finances." The three of them burst into laughter.

After slices of a rather savory and scrumptious white cake, Erik led everyone into the adjoining room, where he serenaded them with a song he wrote especially for Christine.

"I hope the owner doesn't mind that he's playing there piano," Christine whispered furtively to Madame Giry. She looked around sheepishly.

"I'm sure he won't," Madame replied with a smile.

There wasn't a dry eye while Erik sang and played the piano. Madame Giry and Meg had never heard him sing before, and were not aware of the beauty his voice possessed. Christine sat down on the bench next to him and leaned on his shoulder. As the last note died away, he circled his arms around her and kissed her gently on the cheek.

At the sight of such tenderness, Nadir thought it was time to give the newlywed couple their privacy. He motioned silently to Madame Giry and she in turn nudged Meg. Erik caught the exchange and stood up to see them to the door.

"Thank you for everything," Erik said, shaking Nadir's hand, while Christine hugged and kissed Madame Giry and Meg.

"Anything for you my friend," he replied. "Congratulations."

Erik held Christine close as they both waved goodbye to their guests. After both carriages had pulled away and were growing smaller in the distance, Christine turned to him and said, "Don't you think we should be getting home too my love?"

The smile that spread over his face was a mile wide. He pulled her back into the entryway and softly shut the door behind them. "We are home," he whispered.

Her eyes widened. "What?" she exclaimed. "No...all this? It can't be... oh Erik are you serious??" She slapped her hands together and jumped up and down.

He grinned at her elation. The giddy feeling was new to him, but not at all unpleasant. "Yes, Madame Bertrand. No more living underground in the shadows. I want to walk in the sunlight. Promise me we'll do that?"

Ecstatic, she leaped toward him and threw her arms around his neck. He laughed as he kissed her. Her eyes grew serious as her gaze focused on his lips and she sought them again, this time with growing desire.

Her advance made every synapse in Erik's brain fire at once. No more wanting, no more waiting. She was his and she was giving herself to him freely. Her kiss telegraphed that she needed him just as badly as he needed her.

He cupped her face and placed his mouth over hers, kissing her several times, switching the angle of his head as his passion deepened. Her mouth parted to allow his tongue to dance with her own. He heard her moan his name.

Erik scooped Christine into his arms and carried her upstairs to the master suite. His mahogany bed was waiting, evidently moved overnight while she was with the Girys. He gently set her down and went to pull the shades on the windows. An inviting fire burned steadily in the hearth.

Christine held out her arms, beckoning him to come back to her. She slowly removed his mask and made a trail of kisses over his face and back down to his lips.

He hurriedly stripped off his jacket and waistcoat, and undid his cravat while he hungrily consumed the sweet flesh of her neck. She stopped and took a step back, panting with nervousness.

He ran his fingers over the sleeves of her dress, down her arms until he met her hands. Slowly, he lifted them up to his neck and guided her fingers until the top button of his dress shirt popped open. She took over the rest of the buttons as he coaxed his shirt down his back until he was able to shrug out of it. The light from the fire flickered gracefully over his bare chest and waist. Christine's breath caught in her throat at how toned he was. His clothing was deceiving, making him seem frail and thin, when in fact he was actually strong and well defined.

He ran his hands up the sides of her waist and reached around to gently cup her breasts. A small sigh escaped her lips. He moved close to her, kissing her neck as he undid the buttons on the back of her dress. When she was free of the last one, he stood back and peeled the front of it down to expose her heaving bosom. She blushed shyly as he slid the dress to the floor. A few more deft movements and he had her out of her undergarments as well.

Using the length of his body, he walked her to the bed. Hooking his thumbs on the waistband he eased his trousers off while Christine moved under the covers. In mere seconds he was lying on his side next to her. She thrilled at the sensation of his leg brushing against hers.

Again his long fingers trailed the side of her face, pushing a strand of her from her forehead. Christine brought her hand up and touched his lips.

"Are you ready _mon ange_?" he breathed.

She bit her lips and nodded. Using his knee, he parted her legs and moved over her. He paused, looking down at her beautiful face, at her eyes that were full of love and desire.

"Now," she mouthed.

She gasped slightly as he pushed forward and then she melted into his embrace, holding him while he shuddered from the pleasing feeling of her warmth. As he started to move, Christine's fingers curled into his hair.

"We are one," she whispered in his ear. "Forever."


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** This is it. Thank you so much for reading, and for those of you who have been there from the beginning. This first story has been an experience and made me realize that I enjoy writing and want to do more of it. Consequently, I started this as a trial run. If I got good enough feedback about my writing style and plot line, I would follow up with what I originally intended to do, which was to publish it. Being a person who always wanted to write, but never had the guts to, I wasn't sure if I even had a knack for it. All of your lovely reviews have brought to light that maybe I can make it in the world of published authors. Now I will begin an extensive editing process (which will take who knows how long), revamping what needs to be fixed, flushing out descriptions and chapters here and there, and adding things to it that come to mind as I go. Wish me luck.

This site is like crack, and writing my fix. I will continue to brainstorm and concoct new ways to tell the stories we love to hear and will continue to post them on the site. Heck, I've already started another one. I will keep my profile updated as to what I'm doing, and those who have me on author alert will know when I post a new story.

Once again, my thanks goes out to all of you for helping me realize my writing potential. You have truly been my inspiration. ~J

* * *

**Epilogue**

_December 25, 1967_

I will never forget that blustery Christmas Day. It was the year I turned eighteen and I was more than eager to make my own start in the world. I am often told that my impatience is inherited. Next year I would be attending the University of Colorado. My interests would be in voice and music theory. I am also told that my talent of singing is inherited.

Both of my great grandparents had been exceptionally gifted in music. When I was younger, my grandmother used to always tell me how her mother graced the stage at the famous Opera House in Paris, France. I would sit on the floor while she rocked in her chair and listen to her tell stories of what it was like growing up in Paris. From what I heard, it sounded like she had an ordinary childhood, brought up in a home with a loving atmosphere, the best education and so forth.

So imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon my great grandmother's journal, hiding in a trunk in Grandma Bertrand's attic that snowy Christmas day.

The house was chaotic, all of our relatives whom we didn't see during the whole year all converged on my grandma's house one day a year, hoping to make up for lost time and pretending to care what happened in each others lives. There were always the inevitable questions that arose from some relative who asked them out obligation, not really caring what my answer would be. Most of them listened with half an ear as their focus remained on whatever sports game would be playing on TV.

I hated this time of the year. Nosy but indifferent relatives aside, it always brought back the memories of happier times when my father was around to celebrate with us. My brother Austin was fortunate enough not to really remember much of those days, but I did. This would be the ninth Christmas without him. He left when I was nine and Austin was five, for greener pastures as my mother contemptuously put it. He had run off with the secretary at his law firm, leaving my mother behind to care for two young children. But whatever, I didn't need him anyway.

Needless to say, we spent a lot of time at Grandma Bertrand's. While my mother and grandma would sit at the dining room table and bad mouth my father, I would sneak up to the attic and spend hours rummaging through old boxes, trying on clothes and looking at pictures. It became my getaway, a place where I could escape the harsh realities around me.

So when the holiday festivities got to be more than I could handle, I went up there to hide myself away from everyone and the traditional mess they created.

I pulled the cord on the single naked bulb that snaked down from the ceiling and watched the yellowish glow it cast about the room as it swung back and forth. Looking around at all the stuff stashed everywhere made me remember what it was like when I used to come up here all the time. God, I hadn't been up here in years. Things pretty much looked the same, although there was a lot more dust over everything.

Reminiscing, I started walking around the small space, lingering to trail my fingers over this thing or that. I was so caught up in my memories of earlier times that I didn't notice the sheet that lay across the floor, having slipped from where it had been draped over a mottled old chair until it was too late. Muttering a few choice curses that would make my mother blush, I toppled over into a stack of boxes with a terrible crash.

Feeling sheepish, I slowly got to my feet and looked around to survey the damage. Nothing on the outside seemed to be broken, although the antique changing screen that had been positioned by the wall had been pushed over by the boxes and folded itself neatly on the floor. I couldn't say the same for whatever might be in the boxes I had so gracefully landed on.

Mumbling to myself in anger as well as shame, I knelt down and started to reposition the boxes, opening each one to make sure the contents survived. I didn't know how I was going to explain it to my grandma should anything be broken.

I was going through the last box when a tarnished brass edge of an old brown trunk caught my eye. It was nestled against the far wall and had been hidden by the changing screen. Curious, I hurriedly closed the lid on the box in my hands and stacked it on top of the rest.

I knelt down in front of the heavy trunk and ran my hand over it, swiping some of the dust away from the clasps_. Why hadn't I seen this before_, I wondered. At any rate, I was grateful there was no lock to deter my snooping through whatever was inside. It did however, take a great deal of pulling to dislodge the years of gunk that seemed to be gluing the clasps closed. It was obvious that this trunk hadn't been opened in some time.

The musty smell of moth balls and cedar wafted to my nostrils when I lifted the lid. Inside was a staggering array of random objects that seemed to have no correlation to each other. Travel papers, musical scores, a black leather mask, a couple of old ink bottles and a few lace doilies.

"This is all crap!" I said aloud as I sifted through everything. There wasn't even a single picture. "Why would anyone want to keep this stuff?"

My answer presented itself as I dug deeper. Underneath a few dresses that had fabric so brittle I was scared to touch them, I found a small leather bound book that turned out to be a journal.

I turned around so that my back was resting against the trunk and sat Indian style with the book centered on my folded legs, and carefully opened the cover. The pages inside were yellowed with age, the ink so faded I could hardly make out what was written on them. I positioned the book so the light shone on the page, and the words became a bit more readable.

_The Thoughts and Memories of Christine Daae Bertrand _gleaned up at me.

Intrigued, I spent the next hour scouring through the delicate pages, learning the details of my great grandparent's life that no one had bothered to tell me.

Why for instance, did no one tell me about my great grandfather, Erik Bertrand? I had been told enough about him, such as that he was a great composer, a talented musician, and the love of my great grandma's life, but I was stunned to discover that he had done all that while suffering a severe facial deformity. I found it completely weird that no one had mentioned that in reference to him. It must not have been that bad because according to her journal, he went on to live a full, satisfying life.

I also had no idea about the hardships the two of them struggled with. How much had my parents and grandparents left out? It seemed to me that what was written on these pages was an entirely different account than what I'd been told.

All I knew was that both of them had been incredibly and deeply in love, they lived in Paris before coming to the United States sometime during the first part of this century. My grandmother had been a grown woman when they made the move with them and somehow we ended up here in Colorado.

Unwittingly I had stumbled onto a treasure trove of hidden knowledge. My great grandmother was a studious note taker, diligently writing entries in her journal every time a major event happened. It didn't take me long to read all about budding love for a former suitor, her first triumph on the stage, her lessons with a voice she called the _Angel of Music_. How mysterious that my great grandfather lived beneath the opera house, five cellars below the street.

My eyes sucked up the writing on each page as I read about her choice to return to the _world of light_ as she put it, with Raoul de Chagny, her immediate regret at doing so, and her discovery that Erik had faked his own death to draw her back to him. My eyes nearly popped out of my head and I sat up straighter when I read that she was kidnapped and her fiancé Raoul murdered for his fortune. My great grandfather had shown up like an avenging night in shining armor to rescue her, and it was at this point that she realized she truly loved him and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

_How romantic_, I sighed. Who knew?

There were several entries about their wedding, and how he surprised her at the end of that night with their very own house above the ground. I found it incredibly interesting, because I could tell this was where he transitioned into the man that I had heard about.

One read:

_April 1, 1882,_

_Today is the day I have been waiting for since I first heard Erik when I knew him only as the Angel of Music: my wedding day. I didn't know it at the time, but from the moment I first heard him sing, I was irrevocably tied to him. I used to become angry when he told me 'I belonged to him', but now I can see that he spoke the truth. _

_Christine Daae_

I flipped through the pages till I found another.

_July 7, 1882,_

_My return to the stage was a complete success! Erik and I had worked so hard to recondition my voice and prepare me to take the role of lead soprano when the season started. What I was not prepared for was his announcement that he had decided to join me as the lead male role. At first I thought I didn't hear him correctly, but when he walked out on that stage and began singing, he brought the entire auditorium to its feet. These past few months of living above ground have done wonders for him, and if it isn't too conceded to say, I think I have helped draw him out of his reclusive shell. The audience didn't seem to mind the fact that he wore a mask, they were too entranced by his voice. The managers have offered us both a contract, and Erik and I have decided to use some of the money from the Chagny fortune to become patrons of the Opera. I hope that this is the start of something wonderful._

_Christine Daae Bertrand_

This made sense. I had often heard Grandma Bertrand talk about the way her parents took Paris by storm.

_October 28, 1885_

_I'm expecting! I could hardly believe it when the doctor told me that was the reason I had been sick as of late. And here I thought I was just suffering from an autumn cold. When I told Erik he swept me up in his arms and rained kisses on my face. He was so excited! He did have his concerns, but I told him firmly that whatever this child looked like, it will have parents that love him or her deeply, and will grow up in a world without hate. That was my solemn promise to him. _

_Christine Daae Bertrand_

My butt had long since gone numb, but I didn't care.

_August 20, 1886_

_Our beautiful, perfect baby girl arrived early this morning. Erik had begun to pace outside the door to my room as the midwife talked me through breathing exercises that would help ease my contractions. Both Madame and Meg Giry were with me, but when it came time to push, Madame Giry went to sit with Erik. I faintly heard the midwife's protests when he came barging through the door and refused to leave my side. He held my hand through the entire labor and together we witnessed the miracle we had created. I think we will call her Catherine Marie. _

_Christine Daae Bertrand_

And so it was that my grandma was born. They spent the next twenty eight years in Paris, with her parents continuing their reign of the stage until Erik grew to weak physically. He was seventy five when they boarded the boat for America. Christine was fifty four. I was slightly taken aback by their age difference, but they seemed to make it work just fine.

_September 8, 1914,_

_I never thought I would see the day when we would be forced to leave our beautiful home, where so many memories have been made and shared. Paris is being invaded by the Germans and at the urging of our daughter, Erik and I are packing what few things we can carry and setting sail for The New Land. I fear that Erik won't make the trip, but I fear even more what could happen if we stay here. So I will look one last time at the city that I love so much, and feel secure in the knowledge that the people I love are by my side. _

_Christine Daae Bertrand _

Like so many others, my grandma and her parents came to America to escape what many would call "The War to End All Wars." As it turns out, my grandma had met a man just before the invasion and on the night before he was called into active duty, they expressed their love for each other in the only way two people can. He promised to find my grandma in New York City - which was where my family planned on living - after the war was over, but he was killed in combat. My then pregnant grandma grieved heavily over him, but in the end was thankful for that one night they had shared.

Erik died in May of 1915, just two months before my mother Gladys, his first grandchild, was born. Christine, my grandma and my mother continued to live in New York City until the stock market crash of 1929 drained the last of the fortune Christine had obtained from the death of her late fiancé, the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. As hard as it was to leave, she couldn't bear to stay any longer, and so the family had packed everything they owned and made a fresh start in the great state of Colorado. And here is where we've stayed.

Christine died in 1939 at the age of seventy nine, just before the start of WWII. Grandma Bertrand never married and in the summer of 1948 my mother met my father, a handsome young lawyer with a mouthful of promises. I was born a year later, with my brother following in 1953. The rest, as they say, is history.

"Natalie Christine Bertrand McDougal!" my mother bellowed from the bottom of the stairway.

Busted.

And she used my full name. That was never good…

Carefully I closed the journal and placed it back where I found it, underneath the objects that now made more sense. Standing up, I dusted the dirt off my jeans and walked to the landing.

"Yes?" I called out, trying to act nonchalantly.

"Don't 'yes' me!" she snapped. "We have been looking all over for you. Come down here this minute, it's time to open presents."

Joy, I thought.

When I reached the bottom of the stairwell, she grabbed me by the arm and whispered in my ear, "We will talk about this later."

"Wonderful, can't wait," I muttered.

She narrowed her eyes, but chose to let it go… for now.

When I walked into the living room, everyone was waiting patiently, if not a little perturbed. A now feeble Grandma Bertrand was sitting in her wheel chair by the Christmas tree. I hurried to take my seat on the floor next to Austin.

The next twenty minutes were a blur of bright paper and cheerful exclamations. Tinker Toys for my younger cousins, the new Beatles album for my brother. My mother got a pretty green sweater, while my aunt Penny handed out fruitcake. It wasn't until the end of the havoc that Grandma Bertrand motioned for me to come close, while struggling to pluck a small box from underneath the tree.

Everyone grew quiet as she handed it to me. Full of questions, I carefully unwrapped the paper to reveal a ring box. Pushing open the lid revealed a simple gold band nestled against the black cushion.

"That ring belonged to your great grandmother," she began. "Her husband Erik gave it to her before they were married, and she wore it along with her wedding ring until the day she gave it to me, a few months before she died."

I fingered the ring reverently, my mouth open in genuine surprise that something so special would be given to me.

"She made me promise," she went on, "to keep the memory of her and my father's great love alive. I can see no one better to bestow those memories on than you. And I hope that one day you will pass it along to your daughters."

I nodded silently as the tears welled up in my eyes. I slipped it on my finger and hugged her softly while I whispered a quiet 'thank you' in her ear.

From that day forward, I resolved to have a better outlook on life. If Erik could triumph over adversity, than so could I.

I eventually went on to graduate college and established a fairly successful musical career on Broadway. In the end, I credit that gift and the tremendous power of love for showing me the way.

_Finis_


End file.
